What Will Be
by Moonstonez
Summary: Even Fangorn and its elves are not safe from the shadow that approaches from the east. Dark times have a way of drawing out that which is hidden and binding together the most unlikely of allies. Fangorn and Rohan's survival may depend on one Watcher and one Marshal of the Mark to bring them together to battle the evils of Sauron.
1. Chapter 0 - Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings material or benefit financially in any way.

**Authors Note:** A bit of backstory on how the elves ended up in Fangorn.

**Prologue**

There was one that was never accounted for, one that seemed to disappear into the whispers and lore of Middle Earth. Maglor of the House of Fëanor was neither dead nor alive, his whereabouts and that of his kin are a mystery that few ponder. There were rumors and stories of his demise as well as rumors of his curse to forever wander the seashore in search of his Silmaril and never return to Valinor. It was a tale that had all but faded into memory, forgotten as time pressed on.

There are only handfuls that remember the Mighty Singer and even fewer that remember his children. There were no tales sung of his sons and daughters, they were lost to history as were their friends and followers that disappeared in the Second Age. A whole community gone and not missed by the other elves of Middle Earth.

The decision was made by Maglor's son Marcous to leave after his wife's death in the Last Alliance battle. He pleaded with his mother to come with them to Fangorn but she refused, she would not leave her home near the sea. She had hoped that someday Maglor would find his way back to her. Marcous knew his father's mind was gone and that he would never return. His mother would fade as she waited for a man that died long ago to return. With a heavy heart full of grief from the loss of his wife and now his mother, Marcous led several hundred elves by the cover of night into the one place few dared to go… Fangorn Forest. It was protected by an ancient magic that elves and men alike feared. Marcous knew this was a false fear. He knew the truth about Fangorn and the magic that protected it. His father had shared it with him before his mind had failed.

Marcous led his followers deep into Fangorn to its heart where the Onodrim lived. Marcous worked out an agreement with Treebeard their leader to protect Fangorn from the orcs and man if they could find sanctuary within its borders. The Onodrim agreed and helped Marcous and his followers build a city near the river called Wellinghall. For nearly a thousand years they lived in peace and harmony within the forest. Marcous established the Watchers, highly skilled elven rangers who watched the borders of Fangorn and protected it from harm. Never had Fangorn and the Onodrim been as protected as they are under the watchful eyes of Marcous' rangers. Both the elves and the Onodrim benefited greatly from the arrangement.

Even Fangorn and its elves are not safe from the shadow that approaches from the east. Dark times have a way of drawing out that which is hidden and binding together the most unlikely of allies. Fangorn and Rohan's survival may depend on one Watcher and one Marshal of the Mark to bring them together to battle the evils of Sauron.


	2. Chapter 1 - An Ally in Dark Times

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings material or benefit financially in any way.

**Authors Note:** A different storyline for Éomer that's been bouncing around in my head for a while;) The chapters are on the long side and the elvish is pieced together out of a few Sindarin dictionaries found on-line. Please review! Enjoy!

**Chapter 1 – An Ally in Dark Times**

From high in the forest canopy she gazed out over the rolling plains of Rohan. It was a bright sunny morning; there were no clouds in the sky. The flowing sea of grass called to her, each waving blade of grass beckoned to her. Nárwyn sighed as she tore her eyes from the inviting space to watch the forest edge. She was one of the Watchers, a guardian of Fangorn and protector of the trees. Her duty to keep the trees safe kept her in the forest. Today was no different, as much as she wanted to take one of the mares across the open plain she stayed at her post. It was too dangerous now, the darkness was spreading.

It was late in the morning when movement along the tree line to the south caught her eye. It was a band of Uruk-hai, maybe fifteen or so, well equipped. She climbed to another tree to get a better view of the enemy. This was nearly a daily occurrence now to see Uruk-hai running unchecked in Rohan. The failed battles at the Fords have only made things worse. Nárwyn has only seen one willing to continue the fight among the Rohirrim, Éomer the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. He had captured her attention through his bravery and his loyalty to his men. The young Marshal was an intimidating sight in battle, his attack were so fierce she had seen many enemies flee in terror from his charge. She felt an attraction to him that she could not explain; he seemed to call to her… enticing her show herself to him. She had never felt such feelings, not in the centuries she had observed from the trees.

Nárwyn was so intrigued with this man she had even beseeched her father to assist him and his fight against the Uruk-hai. After a long argument her father relented and allowed her to intervene when she felt it necessary. That was the beginning of her precarious relationship with the Third Marshal. It had been six months since the night she approached him as he camped with his men along her borders. Heavily cloaked in the shadows of the night she spoke with him from the safety of the forest. Nárwyn told him her name but nothing of her father or her people. She explained her role as a Watcher and offered her assistance with tracking the Uruk-hai. Éomer was doubtful of her allegiance at first, she could not blame him. Saruman's deceptions were great and trust in these dark times was difficult to come by. Over a course of several weeks after their meeting, Nárwyn had proven her worth to the Marshal; her scouting reports were accurate beyond compare. Many times she had joined in the battles from the trees, killing the orcs with her arrows from the safety of the tree branches above. On more than one occasion her well placed arrows had saved Éomer's life. Her actions forged a trust with the Marshal even though they had not spoken since that night. Through a series of small notes attached to arrows and left in the trees, the two had developed a friendship over the several months.

Nárwyn watched the Uruk-hai for a few moments longer before she jumped to a nearby tree and ran across the branches. Even though she was only half elf she had been gifted with the dexterity that surpassed even most of the full blooded elves she knew. She moved quickly across the tops of the trees, heading north to where Éomer and his men frequently camped. For the remainder of the afternoon she ran, hoping Éomer would not be there. The Uruk-hai were heading north along the forest edge, she hoped if Éomer was there that there was enough time to warn him before the orcs were upon them.

She was nearing the small clearing and started to descend from the canopy through the trees to the ground. Nárwyn swung from the far branch and twisted and landed soundly in the clearing, startling the few men and horses that were there. This was the first time she had shown herself to the Rohirrim, there was no time to stay hidden and send a note on an arrow like before. The men had their swords drawn as she approached them.

"Éomer! There is a company of at least fifteen Uruk-hai headed this way. Where are the rest of your men?" she asked, her voice heavy with concern. A tall man with blond hair wearing a decorative helm with a long white tassel of horse tail approached her with a confused expression on his face.

"Nárwyn?" he asked even though he knew her voice as soon as she spoke. "They are at the village about two leagues to the east of here…"

"We have no time," she said briskly. Nárwyn flung back her cloak and readied her bow and arrows for the incoming Uruk-hai. She noticed Éomer just standing there staring at her. "Ready yourself! I cannot fight them on my own," she said harshly. Éomer snapped out of his daze and started issuing commands to the few men he had. He quickly mounted his horse and waited, he knew that the situation was grave if Nárwyn had risked revealed herself. For the last several months she would normally leave an arrow with a note on it with scouting information, there must not have been time for that. Éomer was shocked to finally see his ally, he had known she was an elf maiden but he was awestruck at how beautiful and delicate she was. This was not the time or place to ponder that now, he chided himself. The sounds of clanking armor and growling could be heard from the south.

"They have our scent now… there are no other options," Nárwyn stated as she drew back her bow releasing her arrow as the first Uruk-hai broke through the underbrush towards them; four Uruk-hai were dead before the rest reached them in the clearing. Éomer and his men charged swinging their swords and hacking down the Uruk-hai as their horses trampled the survivors. The Uruk-hai in the rear of the group saw Nárwyn to the side with her bow and closed in her. Éomer watched in horror as three large Uruk-hai surrounded her. He tried to get to her as he slashed the throat of an Uruk but knew he could not reach her as two more Uruk-hai charged his horse. Nárwyn tossed her bow to the side and drew her two short swords as the Uruk-hai advanced; she twirled them around and waited. The Uruk-hai circled her; the first blow was easily deflected as she used both of her blades to parry the Uruk's sword. She twisted and spun, disarming the Uruk-hai before slicing its throat with her blade. Éomer had just finished off the second Uruk-hai when he watched in amazement as Nárwyn gracefully and effortlessly killed the other two Uruks. He had never seen anyone fight like her; it was almost like a dance as she twirled and spun with her blades. His distraction was his folly as an Uruk blade pierced his side; he let out a cry and quickly brought his sword down and cleaved the Uruk-hai's head in two. Éomer clutched his side as he assisted his men in killing the remaining Uruks. Nárwyn retrieved her arrows from the fallen Uruks and finished off a few of the wounded Uruks that were still alive. Her eyes searched for his as she walked towards the horsemen. Something is wrong she thought as her eyes met his then trailed down and focused on his bloodied armor, she rushed to his side.

"You are wounded," she said, fear clutched at the edges of her heart. Nárwyn looked at his men, "Help him down," she ordered. "Bring him over here next to the trees." The men did not hesitate and assisted Éomer off his horse, his legs gave out and they half carried, half dragged him to the elf maiden who was sitting in the grass going through her shoulder pack. "Help me with his armor," she said. Nárwyn and the men quickly removed Éomer's chest piece so she could treat the wound. Éomer tried to protest but Nárwyn shushed him as she used her dagger to cut some cloth from her bag into strips. The wound scared her, it was too close to many vital organs, a dread started to invade her mind as she checked the wound, carefully pressing around its edges before retrieving a small bottle from her bag. She looked to the two soldiers assisting her. "You will need to hold him down," she said as she pulled the cork with her teeth. The men quickly did her bidding and pressed Éomer shoulders down. Nárwyn gave him a sympathetic look, "this will hurt… I am sorry." She dumped the contents of the bottle on the wound; the fluid hissed and bubbled as Éomer cried out in pain and struggled against the men holding him down. She hoped the nên nestadren would help him. Nárwyn rested a comforting hand on his brow as the liquid forced out the poisons and filth from the Uruk-hai's blade. After a few minutes the liquid calmed and ran clear from the wound, Nárwyn gave a silent thanks to Eru for this, there was hope now. Nárwyn wiped the wound clean and applied a salve from a small container; she enlisted his men's help in bandaging him. Exhausted Éomer laid on the ground, his breathing irregular but slowly returning to normal. He tried to remain awake but it was futile, his eyes focused on the beautiful woman hovering over him for a moment before darkness claimed his sight.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Éomer woke abruptly and looked around, his eyes focused on the woman sitting next to him. He watched Nárwyn grind up some herbs with a mortar and pestle, she was humming a song… he did not know the tune but it made him feel at ease. He looked around for his men; he saw them stacking the bodies of the Uruk-hai a distance away… she must have sent his men off to clean up the carcasses while she tended to him. His eyes trailed back to her, he was still shocked over her appearance and her fighting abilities; she was as deadly as she was beautiful. Her long copper red hair bound in a series of braids and curls draped over her shoulder as she worried over the herbs in the bowl she was holding. Her delicate facial features were in stark contrast to the armor she wore, the rigid decorative black leather and delicate golden chainmail seemed out of place. It was as if she was a series of contradictions… soft yet hardened, delicate yet strong, graceful yet brutal, beautiful and dangerous… it was hard for him to comprehend that all those qualities could be encompassed in one person. Éomer was intrigued by her and felt a longing to know more about her. Over the several months she had been assisting him, he could not get her voice out of his head, nor did the sweet scent of honeysuckle go unnoticed. Everything she seemed to touch, the arrows, the notes and the string… they all carried a faint scent of honeysuckle. He could smell it now as she sat next to him on the ground; it overwhelmed his senses in a pleasant way. Her presence calmed him, he could not explain it but his heart felt light; he had not experienced this since before Théodred's death.

"Thank you," he said simply. There were no words that could really describe the gratitude he felt at the moment. Nárwyn smiled at him, it seemed to light up her face making her more beautiful. Éomer didn't know how that was possible for her to be more beautiful to him but she was and he felt his chest constrict as he gazed upon her.

"Well I couldn't leave you to die; you make these border assignments more exciting… without you I'd just be sitting in trees all day." She gave him sly grin as returned her attention to the herbs in her bowl. Éomer stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before he chuckled and stopped himself as pain radiated from his wound.

"I am glad I provide you with some excitement my lady. I wouldn't want you to be so bored you fall out of one of the trees," he joked in return. Nárwyn laughed, it was musical sound that warmed his heart, it drew the attention of his men as well who looked on with curiosity.

"I am an elf; we do not fall out of trees. Have you ever even seen an elf so much as stumble?" Éomer shook his head.

"You are the only elf I know my lady and I have not seen you be anything but graceful."

"I am only half elf and I cannot so much as stub my toe unless I do it on purpose… it is a curse we bear," she said sarcastically, Éomer smiled, he was impressed, not only was she beautiful but had a sense of humor as well. There were faint touches of humor in some of her scouting reports that always puzzled him. Now that he met the writer he understood some of the levity in her writings.

Nárwyn dug a small cup out of her bag and added a small pinch of the herbs into it before filling it with water. "This will help with the pain and quicken the healing. Let me help you sit up enough to drink," she said as she leaned towards him and slid her arm under his neck and gently leaned him forward. Éomer was acutely aware of her closeness as she pressed the cup to his lips. "Slowly…" she murmured as she cradled his head in her arm. He leaned into her as he drank, enjoying the intimacy he felt with her at that moment… it ended all to quickly as her warmth and touch were removed as she laid his head back down.

Nárwyn checked his wound and laid her hands on his forehead and cheeks checking him for signs of fever. When she was satisfied with her inspection she covered him tightly with his cloak. His eyes were closed, the herbs she had given him appeared to be working and he would rest now. She went to stand up when his arm shot out from under the cloak and grabbed her hand, startled she sat back down on the grass.  
"Don't go…" he whispered as his hand clenched hers. Nárwyn could tell he was fighting the effects of the medicine she had given him. She leaned forward and with her free hand laid a reassuring hand on his cheek.

"Rest Éomer… I will stay the night. Sleep or you will not heal," she said gently. She felt his grip go slack on her hand and she tucked his arm back under the cloak. Nárwyn sat next to him for a while watching to make sure he slept peacefully. More of Éomer's men had returned while she was caring for him. The air was starting to take on a chill, they would need a fire soon she thought but she didn't want to leave Éomer unattended. His men would need to gather wood and build the fire. They stood around looking wary at her as she approached them.

"We will need firewood from the forest floor. He will need to stay warm tonight or fever will overtake him," she looked expectantly the men. She saw one of them men reach for an ax strapped to his saddle. "Only cast off branches, if you harm the trees they will retaliate," she warned. They had all heard the stories of Fangorn and the man immediately backed away from the ax. Nárwyn smirked as they look at the forest apprehensively. "Go! The forest will not harm you if your intentions are honorable." Two of the younger soldiers tentatively entered to forest.

"When did we start taking orders from a woman?" asked one of the newcomers from the village. He was a short man with a large scar down his cheek and a greying beard. Nárwyn's eyes narrowed as she glared at the man. This was not the time for this idiocy she thought… Éomer's life could be in jeopardy and this fool doesn't want a woman telling him what to do.

Nárwyn felt her patience wane, "You do as I say because it will save your commander. If you do not wish for him to live, by all means ignore my requests," she said sharply, her hand going to instinctively to the hilt of her sword at her waist. Gamling, one of the men that were with them when they battled the Uruk-hai stepped in between them.

"Enough Hérmod! The lady Nárwyn is the only reason why we live, without her warning and help those of us that stayed behind would have perished. She saved Lord Éomer, do not doubt her. She is better with a blade and bow than any who ride here." The man snorted and leered at Nárwyn, looking her up and down.

"I'm sure she knows how to handle a blade," Hérmod said not hiding the contempt in his voice. Before Gamling could say or do anything Nárwyn had her blades drawn and had knocked Hérmod to the ground. One of her blades was now pressed against his throat as she leaned forward, her face a mask of calm.

"What say you now _little man_?" she hissed. "You are no different than the Dunlending cowards who beat their women and sell them as breeding stock to Saruman for his Uruk-hai," she spat. "The only thing that is staying my hand from gutting you here in the grass is respect for Éomer… I suggest you do not try my patience farther or I will feed you to the trees." At that moment there were several loud creaking sounds from the forest trees that seemed to emphasis her point. The riders looked towards the forest, fear evident on their faces. From behind her she heard Éomer stirring. She stepped back and sheaved her swords. A visibly shaken Hérmod quickly scrambled to his feet as he backed away from Nárwyn. She looked back to see Éomer trying to sit up, she rushed to his side. He waved her off and glared at his rider.

"You disgrace us all with your behavior Hérmod. I will deal with you when we reach Edoras. Now go gather firewood as Lady Nárwyn asked and you better pray that the trees do not take offense of your insults to their protector," said Éomer in an ominous but weary voice. Hérmod bowed and muttered his apologies as he hurried towards the forest. "The rest of you… Lady Nárwyn speaks with my voice this evening. You will do as she says and respectfully. Do you understand?" The remaining men nodded and bowed and began to work on setting up camp. Éomer lowered himself back to the ground in obvious pain as Nárwyn knelt down at his side. She quickly checked him for fever, brushing the back of her hand across his forehead and down his cheek.

"You need to sleep if you want to be well enough to ride to Edoras," she said as she raised the cloak to check his wound. There was new blood coating the bandage… a lot of blood, Nárwyn cursed under her breath.

"I am sorry," he said. "Hérmod will wish he had never opened his mouth." Nárwyn shook her head.

"He is but an annoyance and little else, please do not concern yourself with it." The flesh was not mending as it should be, she could feel it. Someplace inside, he was bleeding. She looked at his face, it was pale and he looked so very tired, she felt his life force dimming.

"You should not have to tolerate scorn from men like Hérmod," he said as his eyes threatened to close. Nárwyn gave him a sad smile and rested a hand on his cheek. Foolish man she thought, he was worried about her feelings as his life withered. She felt tears start to fill her eyes as she stroked his cheek. Éomer reached a trembling hand up and wiped away a tear that escaped her eyes.

"Beautiful lady… do not cry for me, I knew it would end like this…" His eyes closed and his hand slowly dropped from her face. Nárwyn felt a moment of panic as she felt his neck… he was still alive but barely. It wasn't until that moment that she realized how much this man had meant to her. All these months of helping him had brought a great change to her life, happiness she rarely experience. The thought of his death brought great anguish to her. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. She could not let him die, not now…

"Mell melui dîr, dartha cuin an nin," she whispered. She looked up at the sky, her tears openly flowing now.

"Eru!" she called. "Na nin cuil calad! Nesta Éomer! Iuitha nin ant, anna nin cuil na Éomer." Her voice lingered on the wind. Éomer's men watched in distress as the elf maiden call out, tears running down her face as she clung to their commander. They feared the worst, the wound was grave… Éomer was dying. The riders bowed their heads and clasped each other's arms. The wind started to pick up, blowing tree leaves around at their feet. Nárwyn didn't notice the wind or leaves as they swirled around her as she hugged Éomer. The force of the wind increased and she looked up. The air around her and Éomer was shimmering as golden strands of light weaved through the air. It was beautiful to see as the colors danced in the wind that surrounded them. The speed picked up, the lights and wind whirled faster, Nárwyn felt dizzy, like the air was being pulled from her lungs. She grabbed at her throat in a panic, her fingers digging at her delicate skin. As quickly as it started the wind suddenly died down and the leaves fell to the ground. Nárwyn gasped for breath, her throat and lungs were burning. She looked around and saw Éomer 's men looking on from the distance, the shock was apparent on their faces. Nárwyn sat back breathing heavy, she felt so very tired. She slowly reached for the cloak to cover him back up before collapsing at his side. She wondered how much of her light had been taken away to save his life, it scared her.

He would recover; he would not die…this much she knew. What fate awaited her, she did not know.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The sun had set and the riders had settled into camp, cooking food on the fire and talking amongst themselves. The threat of the Marshal's death appeared gone; they discussed in hushed whispers what they had seen. They stayed away from Nárwyn as she remained vigilant at Éomer's side. Gamling was the only one willing to approach her, he brought over a small plate of fire roasted potatoes and carrots for her. He handed her the plate, "It's not much and I'm not much of a cook but it will get you through the night," he said as he sat down next to her.

"Thank you, anything will be better than more lembas bread… it's all I've had to eat for the last week," she said as she ate the roasted vegetables.

"Is he going to be alright?" ask Gamling. "I've seen similar wounds and death always followed…" Nárwyn could see the concern in the soldier's face, his men worried when they should not.

"He will live… you can ease your mind of that worry," she said as leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Éomer's brow.

"He is very lucky to have you as a friend my lady," commented Gamling. Nárwyn smiled at Gamling. He wanted to ask her about the wind and the other things he saw but he knew she used elven magic and thought it best not to question her about it, he was just happy Éomer would live.

"I am glad to be his friend," she said softly as she gazed on Éomer's sleeping form. "He needs many to stand against the evils of Isengard." Gamling nodded.

"We were all worried when he told us about the women in the forest that spoke with him. Some questioned his mind, others worried it was an agent of Saruman that was leading him astray. Until today I had my doubts… I was afraid we were being lured into a trust only to be deceived in the end," Gamling said as he looked into the campfire.

"I was worried about revealing too much… worried about what that might do to my people. I felt I had to protect them. That didn't matter to me today when I saw how few of you were here and how many Uruk-hai were coming, it still doesn't… All I could think about was protecting… him," she said quietly. The revelation startled her, she did not know when her priorities had shifted but it was true.

"Will you be coming back to Edoras with us?" asked Gamling. Nárwyn shook her head no; she had to go back to Wellinghall to talk to her father. Gamling frowned, "Things are not going well in Edoras for Lord Éomer since Théodred's death… the King is not well and there are those who capitalize on it."

"Is he in danger?" Nárwyn asked. She had not expected this; she assumed he would be safe in his own capital city.

"I am not sure, it has been weeks since we were at Edoras, many things could have changed," replied Gamling. He was worried that Grima had seized more power in Éomer absence and Éowyn would be unable to stop it.

Nárwyn sighed and buried her face in her hands, she could feel a headache coming on… one of the many things to remind her she was only half elf.

"When I get back to my father's house I will send a means for you to contact me… one of our falcons or hawks. If it is as hostile as you feel it is can you send me word? I do not know what I'll do but I will try to find a way to help," she said as she rubbed her temples. This complicates things even more, she thought. Father would not be pleased and if he will not lend aid then who will?

"Thank you my lady." Gamling stood up, "If you need anything I will be over by the horses." She nodded and returned her gaze to Éomer. Nárwyn reached up and checked his brow again for fever, there was none yet her fingers lingered. She brushed his golden strands of hair out of the way, his face was calm and free of the worry lines she had frequently seen from her post in the trees. So many things weighed heavy on this man… she hoped that she could help him bear the burden.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The dark sky was fading into a hazy purple as the sun started to work its way towards the eastern sky. Nárwyn sat at Éomer's side, wrapped tightly in her cloak with her knees drawn to her chest, she rested her chin on her knees as she watched him sleep. He slumbered peacefully, snug under the blankets she had received from his men. There was still no trace of fever yet she worried, even if he was able to mount his horse and ride to Edoras she would still be worried. She was having a hard time coming to grips with these alien emotions. Never before had it been as apparent as now that she was half human. All of the years with her father's people had sheltered her from her humanity. Éomer had brought out that dormant aspect of her and left her feeling vulnerable in this unfamiliar landscape. How could this one man's friendship take nearly five hundred years of certainty and crush it to dust at her feet? The only thing she knew without a doubt was that things could not go back to the way they were before. Her life had taken a new path, there was no going back.

The sun had arrived, it's rays spreading out across the plain and with it the camp started to wake. Gamling came over to check on her and Éomer and was pleased to hear there was no fever over the night. He brought her a handful of dried fruit and nuts that she graciously accepted. She sat there nibbling on her breakfast when Éomer's eyes started to flutter open. Nárwyn smiled and leaned over to check him for any sign of fever.

"I thought you were a dream…" said Éomer, his voice husky with sleep. "I am not dead…"

"No, you will live… at least until you grow careless in battle again." she scolded as she moved the blankets so she could remove the bandage.

"You healed me… how?" Nárwyn and gave him a tired look.

"It is not important how… it is done," she said quietly. "Now let me check this wound and see how well the healing has taken." Éomer could tell something had happened but he didn't press the matter, whatever it was had cost her something, that much was obvious…she seemed so tired.

Nárwyn pulled the bandage back and gasped, a shaky hand came up to her mouth. Éomer quickly sat up and looked at his side, the wound was gone. He looked at the troubled woman before him. "How?" he asked in a quiet voice. "What did you do Nárwyn? How is this possible?"

"Nin amarth, nin gwanath... rîdh," she whispered. Nárwyn looked up him, "Your life has been spared Éomer son of Éomund, do not waste this gift." She stood up abruptly and offered him her hand. Éomer took her hand; he slowly stood up to the cheers of his men. Several riders rushed forward to talk to him, as if reassuring themselves that their commander was fit and healthy. Many of the riders stopped and bowed to her, praising her and thanking her on their way to their commander.

Nárwyn used the distraction to gather her things, she needed to get back to Wellinghall and ask Lháewnis her mentor what all of this meant If anyone would know it would be Lháewnis, she could tell her what price she would have to pay for Éomer's life. She waved Gamling over to her.

"My lady it is a miracle, I have never seen a wound healed overnight! You truly are gifted healer," he praised her. Nárwyn smiled sadly… if only it were that simple she thought.

"Can you make sure he takes these herbs every night before bed for the next week? A pinch in this cup and fill it with water?" she asked, handing Gamling a leather pouch and a small metal cup.

"Of course my lady, I'll make sure it is done." Gamling looked at her and frowned. "Are you leaving?" Nárwyn nodded as she swung her bow over her shoulder.

"I have more questions than answers right now. It will take me a few days to travel across Fangorn on foot, I should head out now if I want to reach the Entwash by tomorrow afternoon," Nárwyn said as she fixed the strap on her bag.

"You will reach Entwash by tonight if you ride with me," said a deep voice from behind her. Éomer rested his hand on her shoulder and slowly turned her to face him. "It is the least I can do to repay you for saving my life.. again," he said with a smile. As much as she wanted to protest, Nárwyn could not for some unknown reason refuse him; she nodded and was surprised when he pulled her into an embrace. "Thank you," he said softly. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, calm she had not experience before flowed through her and an overwhelming sense of safety filled her. As she lingered in his embrace, Nárwyn was engulfed with a feeling of weariness so powerful she felt herself lean heavily on Éomer as her legs seemed to lose interest in supporting her. His arms tightened around her.

"Sorry, I'm just a little tired…" she murmured as she stood back regaining her balance. Éomer frowned and cupped her chin with his hand, raising her eyes to meet his.

"You are exhausted. When did you last sleep?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. Nárwyn gave him a tired smile.

"Elves don't need to sleep often… a few days ago, maybe five," she said stifling a yawn. Éomer shook his head and gave her a disapproving look.

"You are only half elf…" he reminded her.

"She kept watch over you all night… never left your side my lord," Gamling divulged. Nárwyn glared at him.

"You are not helping Gamling," she muttered. "I will be fine, this should pass." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, Éomer or herself. Nárwyn had been tired before but not like this, she felt drained. She was feeling the ill effects of losing some of her light, she had hoped it would pass but she did not know the answer to that question… Lháewnis will know.

"You will ride with me, you can sleep then," Éomer decided. "Gamling help me with my armor so we can leave shortly." He turned and went to his horse Firefoot where his armor had been left. Nárwyn stopped Gamling as he passed.

"How does one sleep on a horse?" she asked. The whole idea seemed silly; she'd fall asleep and slide right off the back of the horse.

"My lord will hold on to you… don't worry you will not fall." Gamling hurried over to Éomer. Nárwyn felt her face flush and panic set in. She was not going to deny the growing attraction she felt for the Marshal, it seemed even worse now, the thought of being that close to him sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Her eyes wandered to the forest, the same forest that had protected her for centuries seemed to be openly mocking her now.

She watched with trepidation as Éomer mounted his horse and approached her. Gamling took her bow and pack and tied it to the saddle. She looked up at Éomer, he was in his full armor and helm… just the way she had first saw him as he gallantly charged a small horde of Uruk-hai. Why did looking at him now cause butterflies in her stomach and made it difficult to breathe? Something was forever changed between them making it more difficult to be in his presence.

Éomer leaned forward offering her his arm, "Ready?" he asked with a smile. Nárwyn swallowed hard and used his arm to pull herself up in front of him on the saddle. She tried to move forward to put some space between them but the slope of the saddle prevent it and she found herself sliding back down until she was flush against him. Éomer snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, Nárwyn went rigid, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. "Relax," he said softly by her ear, his hot breath on her neck sent a shiver through her body that she could not control. "I won't let you fall." Another shiver racked her body and she realized she had started trembling. Éomer misinterpreted this as she was cold and pulled his cloak around them before wrapping his arm around her waist once again. There was no escaping now, she was wrapped in his warmth, pulled tightly against him with his breath on her neck… it was sweet agony. She was painfully aware of every sensation, the rumbling of his voice in his chest as he called out orders to his men, the friction of his thigh on the back of hers as the horse picked up speed, even the way his hand felt pressed against her stomach. She needed a distraction or Nárwyn felt her mind would be lost to the sensations that bombarded her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. It seemed like a silly question but it was the only one she could think of.

"I feel good," he responded. "If I had to compare, I would say that I feel better now than before getting run through by an Uruk blade. I do not understand how you healed me or what you sacrificed to do it…" Éomer felt her tense at his words. "I am no fool Nárwyn, miracles come with a price and it shames me to know that you will have to pay it for me." They rode in silence for a time before Nárwyn spoke.

"I could not let you die," she said softly. "You are my friend Éomer, I do not regret it. As for the price, I do not yet know what it is… I must get back to my people, my brother or my mentor will know."

"You will tell me when you find out?" he asked.

"It is my burden; it will serve no purpose for you to worry about my fate." She really did not want him to know, to feel obligated to help her.

"We are friends and I want to be there for you and help you. It's what friends do," he reminded her. She couldn't argue with him about it, if the roles were reversed she would want to know as well. She relaxed some and leaned back into his arms, the fatigue from earlier was weighing on her.

"So you have a brother?" Éomer asked. He realized that he really didn't know all that much about Nárwyn and he desperately wanted to know everything about this beautiful woman who kept saving his life.

"I have two, Castien and Aranron, they are both older than me... a lot older. They are really my half-brothers, my father's first wife died in the final battle of the Last Alliance. What about you?" she asked as she swung her leg over to the side so she could face him, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to support her, pulling her against his chest.

"A sister, her name is Éowyn. My uncle adopted us after our parents died; he has been like a father to us. I think that you would like my sister," he said thoughtfully. "She's been trained to fight with a sword since she was a little girl." He smiled as he thought of his sister, "she fancies herself a Shield Maiden, even though they have not existed for centuries."

"My mother was a Shield Maiden…" she said softly. Éomer gave her a bewildered look.

"When? Of what house?" he asked.

"I do not know of which house she belonged to, I just know she rode with Eorl the Young. Her name was Raelith," she said as she stifled a yawn. "My mother's life before she met my father is not discussed much." She looked up at Éomer; he had a look of complete shock on his face as he stared at her.

"Éomer?" she asked after he remained silent for a few moments.

"Your mother was the Red Maiden?" he asked, his voice was full of awe. Nárwyn frowned; she didn't understand why it was important.

"I have heard her called that… why?" she asked. Éomer looked down at woman he held in his arms, her long coppery red hair curling around her face… the same hair that was describe in the stories of his youth. A maiden with hair of fire charging into battle on a black steed… she rallied men to Eorl the Young and changed the tide of battle at Celebrant. He remembered the mural in his uncle's study of a red-haired woman on a black steed holding the first flag of Rohan. He looked at Nárwyn's who wore confused and worried expression.

"You really don't know how important your mother was to Rohan?" he asked. Nárwyn shook her head. Éomer smiled at her, "Your mother is the reason Rohan exists. She led the charge that defeated the orcs that had flanked Gondor's army the Celebrant. That battle is why Cirion, Steward of Gondor, granted the land we now ride upon to the Eorlingas." Nárwyn just stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. Why hadn't her father told her this? She suddenly felt very angry at her father and brothers… they had to of known. Éomer watched as a river of emotions flowed through her eyes. "I am sure they had their reasons for not telling you," he said softly when he saw the anger in her eyes. "At least you can ask them about it when you get back."

"All they told me was how she met my father and of her death when I was born," she muttered angrily. She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to let her ill temper abate. Éomer smirked, such fire in her he noted.

"So how did they meet? Your mother just disappeared… many thought she fell to orcs." Éomer heard her sigh as she shifted her position to rest her head on his chest. Even though it was just a simple shift to get comfortable… Éomer felt his pulse quicken at her nearness.

"My brothers have told me this story many times," Nárwyn began. "Castien does a much better job at telling it than I." She closed her eyes and started to recite the tale. "My father was walking along the borders of the forest when he heard a woman crying. He naturally went to the sound, hoping he was not too late to offer help. When he cleared the forest he found a beautiful women with long red hair crying next to a fallen horse. The horse had been galloping near the forest edge when it broke it's leg in a hole, it had thrown my mother and broke its neck in the fall. My father was moved by her tears for the fallen animal he comforted her. He helped her bury her beloved horse and escorted her into Fangorn where healers tended her wounds. He later found out that she had been running away, trying to escape a loveless marriage to some lord. My father offered her sanctuary in Fangorn and she stayed. After a while they fell in love and married, they were only together a few short years before she died giving birth to me." She looked up at Éomer; his eyes were intensely watching her. "That is all I really know."

"The lord was Eorl… she disappeared on the eve of the wedding. They searched or her for weeks and found not a trace." He looked up and motioned his men to slow so the horses could rest. "It puts things in a different perspective to know that she fled and was not taken. Your mother's disappearance is why shield maidens eventually disappeared. Men were too fearful their wives would be taken by the orcs that they did not permit them to fight at their sides anymore."

"She would be very angry to learn what happened … my brothers always said she was headstrong and quick to anger. She was not one to be subservient of her husband… to learn the women of Rohan no longer fight would have drawn her rage," she said it with a bitterness in her voice that surprised Éomer.

"What about you my lady? Does it ignite the same anger in you?" He was sure he knew the answer as soon as her green eyes met his.

"Yes," she said in a hoarse whisper.

"Then perhaps that is why your father did not tell you too much about her past…" he said prudently. Nárwyn frowned, it was true… when she was younger she may have done something rash with the knowledge of her mother's past.

"Am I that much of an open book?" she asked with a sigh. Éomer gave her a smug smile.

"Only a few pages my lady, I still have yet to read the rest," he said as his grin widened. Nárwyn's eyes narrowed.

"You presume much Marshal… I do not let just anyone gaze at my pages," she tried to sound annoyed but it was laced with amusement.

"Then I will consider myself a fortunate man to have seen what I have," he said with a sly grin that lit up his face. Nárwyn felt the butterflies in her stomach return and the heat rising to her cheeks. She turned her face away so he wouldn't see her blush.

"So you have two brothers and a father… what is his name?" Éomer asked as they picked up speed.

"My father's name is Marcous, son of Maglor of house Fëanor," she said quietly. She knew since Éomer was nephew to a king he would be educated in the history of the elves.

"You are full of surprises my lady," he said after a few minutes. " It is believed the house of Fëanor died out in the Second Age, but considering what I know of elves in Fangorn… it makes sense now. Your father is the king then?" he asked. Nárwyn nodded, she was relieved he was understanding about her lineage… she imagined most would just call her a liar not Éomer, he believed her. "I would like to meet him some day, considering my uncle's health is failing."

"I would like you to meet my family someday as well," she said sleepily. "If you or your sister ever needed some place to go, you would be welcome in Fangorn."

"We wouldn't have to climb trees would we?" he joked. Nárwyn smiled.

"Contrary to what you may think of elves, we don't live like squirrels, we have a city there… it is just hidden. You would only have to climb trees if you wanted to…" She pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders snuggled into his chest as she started to lose her battle with sleep. Éomer tightened his hold on her as he wrapped his other arm with the reins partly around her.

Éomer watched her face as she slept, he felt his heart ache. He had been so focused on defending Rohan the past few years he never even allowed himself to think of a wife or children. Théodred had warned him that this would happen, Éomer never believed him… not until he saw her face. Then he knew without a doubt that Théodred words were true_… "Cousin, one day a woman will come into your life unexpectedly and you are going to be lost to everything and everyone but her. She is either going to be your bane or your salvation." _

Éomer looked down at the beautiful woman nestled in his arms, he understood now… it didn't matter if she was his salvation or his bane; he was willing to risk either to be with her… even if it was only for a moment. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead as she slept.

"Sleep well my Red Maiden."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Gamling watched as his commander bestowed a kiss on the sleeping elf maiden's brow and smiled. It warmed his heart to see such happiness and contentment on Éomer's face. For too long the young lord has been just fulfilling his duty to his country, his king… there has been no room for his own happiness. Since Théodred's death, Éomer's life has been one patrol after another, he rarely saw his sister now. Until the Lady Nárwyn offered her support Gamling was sure Éomer was looking for his death at the end of an orc spear. He watched his lord cradle the Lady Nárwyn with such gentleness; it didn't seem possible he was the same man that rode into battle with such fierceness his enemies fled before him.

"She is a distraction to him," muttered Hérmod who was riding next to him.

"Aye… a much needed one," responded Gamling.

"Maybe…" Hérmod sighed. "She risked herself to save him… did you know that?" Gamling shook his head. "When I was in the north all those years, we had dealings with the Lorien elves, I learned to speak Sindarin." The older rider urged his horse towards Gamling's and whispered. "She called to Eru, she offered her life's light so that his wound would be healed and he would live." He looked around at the other riders, "You saw it didn't you? The wind? The lights?" Gamling nodded.

"Yes I saw that, so did many others. If she offered her life, why wasn't her life taken?" Gamling glanced over at Éomer and the maiden.

"Good question, I've been thinking about it all day. The northern elves have a lot of stories about this type of thing, they are considered tragedies'. The elf sacrifices their immortality for a mortal… that is probably what the girl did." Gamling frowned.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"That means when the commander dies, she dies or the other way around… Don't know of too many men that would make that kind of sacrifice… I should apologize to the girl when we stop. Anyone willing to do that has earned my respect."

"Who else have you told about this?" asked Gamling, a terrible thought passed through his mind.

"I haven't told anyone but you…why what are you thinking?" Hérmod asked as he looked over at the Marshal and Nárwyn.

"Imagine if Grima found out about this? What do you think he would do?" Gamling said in a hushed voice. Hérmod frowned and shook his head.

"I hadn't even thought about that. We need to talk to the others… even if he heard about the healing, he would try and find the girl, use her against Éomer." Gamling nodded.

"Start talking to the others, I'll talk to Éomer before we reach Edoras." Hérmod nodded and steered his horse to another group of riders.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was early evening when they reached the Entwash river. The ride didn't take nearly as long as Éomer had hoped. He looked down the sleeping woman in his arms and sighed. Soon he would have to wake her, she would leave and he would be alone again. His heart despaired not knowing when he would see her again. Éomer reined in his horse and signaled for his men to stop as well. He led Firefoot to the river's edge so he could drink after the long ride. It was time to awaken her but he was not sure how he was going to do it. Éomer used his teeth to pull his riding glove off then tucked it in his belt. He reached his hand out to touch her face and noticed his hand was shaking. Willing his hand to still, he gently ran his finger down the side of Nárwyn's face. She sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Éomer…" she breathed. "_nín mell mellon… nín gûr… nín cuil… _" Éomer frowned, she was speaking Sindarin, for the first time in his life he wished he had listened to his uncles teachings. Nárwyn was still in the bonds of sleep when her hand reached up and cupped his cheek. " … _dartha na nin… ui_…" Éomer inhaled deeply and grasped her hand in his; he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm, his lips lingering longer than they should have.

"Nárwyn, we are here, you must wake," he said softly, his voice huskier than he would of liked. "Nárwyn," he said a bit louder. "Unless you want me to carry you to Edoras you should wake." He watched as her eyes began to open. Her green eyes focused on his and he saw her blush, she quickly sat up.

"I'm sorry," she said as she rubbed her eyes. "How long was I sleeping?" She looked around to gain her bearings, her eyes widened. "We are here?" her voice was full of surprise. Éomer laughed at her confusion.

"Yes my lady, you slept through the whole trip," he said. He tried to maintain good humor but loss of her soft warmth against his body was just a stark reminder that she was leaving soon.

"You held me the whole time?" she asked incredulously. Vague memories of a dream scatted across her consciousness, an image of Éomer bending down to kiss her flashed in her mind's eye, her blush darken.

"Well you would have noticed if I dropped you," he said with a smirk. She gave him a teasing grin that caused his heart to beat faster.

"Well, thank you sir for not dropping me along the way… that would have been an undesirable way to awaken," she said with a smile. She slid off the side of Firefoot to the ground and proceeded to the rear of the horse to retrieve her pack and bow. She saw one of the riders approaching; it was the one that insulted her from the other night, Hérmod.

"My lady, may I have a word?" Hérmod asked as he bowed to her. She saw Éomer approaching out of the corner of her eye, he did not look please.

"Of course," she said to Hérmod. Nárwyn looked over to Éomer. "I'll be fine," she said before following the rider away from the river. The older rider turned around and looked at her, he bowed his head.

"I wish to apologize my lady… for my actions yesterday. It was wrong of me and I deserve every last bit of shame I feel." Nárwyn felt herself relax, she was glad this was not leading into another confrontation.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I consider it forgotten." Hérmod smiled and bowed again.

"No thank you my lady for saving Lord Éomer. I know what it cost you and not many would be willing to make that kind of sacrifice." Hérmod bowed again and took his leave. Nárwyn frowned, how could this man have known what she did? And how did he know the costs? She needed to see Lháewnis and soon. There was so much she didn't understand about what happened last night. She had been desperate to save his life; she had called to Eru, something you just didn't do. There were so few stories about this and what happens when you give your light to someone, she was starting to be worried. Did it have something to do with these confused feelings and longings she had now? She hoped Lháewnis would know but now she started to have her doubts.

As much as she wanted to go home a part of her was apprehensive, she did not want to leave Éomer. She had grown attached to him, she didn't like to admit it but she was going to miss him. Her heart started to ache, a part of her wanted to ride to Edoras with him just so she could be cradled in his warm arms again. Nárwyn felt herself shiver at the thought. Between the ride and the dream she had earlier, her feelings were confused to say the least. She quickly dismissed the memories of the ride here and walked towards the forest edge where Éomer waited. Each step seemed to cause her pain, all she could think about was in a few moments he would leave and she would go home. Why was this so hard? Why did the thought of not seeing him again for a time or ever cause her so much distress? It must have been evident on her face; Éomer looked at her and his brow knotted with worried.

"Are you well my lady?" he asked, the change in her mood had him concerned. 'No I am not well,' she thought. Sadness seemed to erupt from her heart at that moment and she felt her eyes sting. She looked up at him; her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Éomer grew more concerned as one tear found its passage down her cheek. He cupped her face with his hand. "Nárwyn?" he asked softly. Éomer used his thumb to wipe away the tear just as more threatened to follow. Nárwyn closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, she placed her hand over his.

"Promise me you will be careful… that you will not take unnecessary risks," she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. Éomer felt like he couldn't breathe, his chest tightened and he could feel himself slipping into the bright green abyss of her eyes.

"I will be vigilant my lady," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. Nárwyn impulsively flung her arms around his neck pulling him into a tight embrace, the overwhelming need to feel him close overruling any restraint she had left. Éomer was startled but slowly wrapped his arms around her as she clung to him.

"That is all that I can ask …" she said softly, her breath hot on his neck. Éomer closed his eyes and tightened his hold on her. "It will be nearly a moons passing before I will return to my post. I will look for you when I return." Nárwyn leaned up her cheek resting on his and whispered in his ear, "_Dartha cuin an nin_". She placed a soft kiss on his cheek before pulling away from the stunned Éomer. "I have to go…" she said sadly. Nárwyn left his arms and walked into Fangorn, before the shadows claimed her, she turned looking back at him once more and then she was gone.

Éomer stood there staring into the forest for a long time; none of his men said a word. The young Marshal slowly returned to his horse, he mounted up and stared at the forest one last time.  
"We ride to Edoras!" he commanded and spurred his horse south leaving his men to rush after him.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

**Elvish Translation:**

**nên nestadren** - water of healing

"**Mell melui dîr, dartha cuin an nin"** – "Dear sweet man, stay alive for me"

"**Na nin cuil calad! Nesta Éomer! Iuitha nin ant, anna nin cuil na Éomer."** - "By my life light! Heal Éomer! Use my gift, give my life to Éomer"

"**Nin amarth, nin gwanath... rîdh,"** – "My fate, my death... sown."

"_**nín mell mellon… nín gûr… nín cuil… **_**"** – "my dear friend, my heart, my life…"

"_**dartha na nin… ui"**_– "stay with me always"

"_**Dartha cuin an nin**_**"** – "Stay alive for me"


	3. Chapter 2 - A High Price

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings material or benefit financially in any way.

**Authors Note:** This chapter is pretty busy setting up characters and blending with existing movie and book plots. The sections alternate between Nárwyn and Éomer's points of view. Please review! Enjoy!

**Chapter 2 – A High Price**

She hid in the shadows of Fangorn and watched him mount up and ride off. The ache she felt in her heart was unbearable, it almost drove her to break from the forest and run after him. She did not; instead she hid in the darkness clutching the bark of one of the ancient oaks. Nárwyn leaned into the tree and rested her forehead on the moss covered trunk. A sob escaped her throat as the tears started to run freely down her cheeks. Why? She asked herself that over and over again. Why did she feel this misery for a man she hardly knew? Was this punishment for calling Eru to save him? Was this ever going to pass?

"The whispers on the wind were true," a voice said from the branches high above her. Nárwyn quickly wiped the tears from her face and started walking deeper in the forest. "I had to see it with my own two eyes… my sister riding with a company of _men_… more specifically riding on a horse in the arms of a _man_," the voice followed her from above. Nárwyn ignored the voice and kept walking, her eyes focused on the faint path before her. "A man who she hugged and kissed no less but moments ago," the voice said. There was a faint rustling of leaves and a tall handsome elf with dark brown hair and the same black and grey armor as her jumped on to the path before her, blocking her passage. "So sister, would you mind explaining what is going on?" he said. Nárwyn stopped and stared down at the ground, she did not wish to discuss this now and not with him.

"Leave it Castien," Nárwyn said with an edge to her voice. "I do not wish to discuss this with you." She tried to walk past him but he moved again blocking her way.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, there was a slight undertone of amusement in his voice. Nárwyn tried to walk around him again only to have him block her path. "I can do this all evening if you like," he said laughing. With a low growl, Nárwyn shoved him hard knocking him down onto the forest floor and proceeded to walk down the trail. "Well that was rude," said Castien as he quickly caught up to her. "You don't want to talk about this do you?" he asked with a smirk. Nárwyn glared at him and kept walking. "That was him wasn't it? The one you begged father to help?"

"I did not beg," she snapped at him. Castien laughed merrily as he walked next her.

"I seem to remember it differently, '_Father we must help him! Please Father; let me help him fight against the Uruk-hai._' Sounded like begging to me," he said with a note of glee in his voice. Nárwyn didn't even look at him, she just walked faster. "I had wondered why my little sister would bother with helping one man fight the orcs, and then it dawned on me… I bet she fancies him. My sister is in love with the Third Marshal…. "A loud smack was heard as Nárwyn fist struck his jaw. "You hit me! You actually hit me!" Castien whined as he rubbed his jaw.

"And I will do it again!" she said indignantly. "I told you! I do not wish to discuss this with you… not now." She abruptly turned and started down the path again.

"You would not have hit me if it wasn't true," Castien said sullenly. Nárwyn spun to confront him, her eyes full of fury. She opened her mouth to retort but no words came out. Castien watched as the fury was placed by sadness and his sister's head bowed in defeat. Nárwyn brought her hands up to her face and covered her eyes. "Nárwyn?" Castien cautiously approached his sister. Her face was still covered by her hands; he gently pried her them from her face. Her cheeks were damp with tears; she refused to look at him. "Sister… what happened?" he asked softly. She looked up at him; her eyes were full of pain and confusion. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him in a tight embrace.

"Oh Castien… I did something that I cannot undo," she sobbed. "I saved him… he didn't die… now I have to pay the price." Castien shook his head, what she was saying did not make any sense.

"What do you mean a price?" He led her over to a fallen trunk and had her sit down. "Tell me everything, leave nothing out." Nárwyn nodded and wiped her eyes. She told him everything, the battle with the Uruks and how Éomer was wounded.

"The wound did not mend, I could feel him dying Castien, I couldn't let that happened." Nárwyn looked down at her hands. "I called to Eru…" She heard Castien take in a sharp breath. "I couldn't let him die…" she said softly.

"What happened when you call for Eru's help?" he asked his voice barely audible.

"There was a wind and lights… they surrounded us. I felt like I could not breathe and then it passed. In the morning, when I checked his wound… it was completely healed." Nárwyn looked at her brother with fear in her eyes. "I do not know what to do. Something has changed… for me brother. I offered my light… my life to save him. It was not taken… at least not how I expected it to be." Castien got up and walked away from her. "Please brother, I am afraid."

"How could you do that?" Castien turned to her, his eyes full of anger. "Did you not think of your family at all? Of Father? If Eru chose your life in exchange for this man's… how do you think how Father would have felt when you did not return from the border? Stupid, foolish girl! Why do you never think?" he raged. Nárwyn just stared at him, her eyes wide; she covered her face and wept, her shoulders shaking with each sob. Castien felt his anger dissolve as he watched his sister breakdown. He sighed and knelt down in front of her and gathered her into his arms. Castien held her for a long time until her tears ran their course. She pulled away from him and wiped the tears from her face.

"You are right… I did not think about my family," she said quietly. "The only thought I had was how I could not let him die." She looked at him with haunted eyes. "I ask myself if I could go back and change my actions if I would do it… I would not, even if it meant my death." She looked up at Castien's disapproving scowl. "I still may pay that price… I need to see Lháewnis she may be able to see the threads of fate that are binding me to this path." Nárwyn looked away into the darkening forest. "At least I hope she can..." she said sadly. Castien stood up and pulled Nárwyn with him.

"Let us go then, Lháewnis is at the palace, we can make it there by morning if we hurry." He grabbed ahold of her wrist and started to pull her through the forest. Nárwyn did not resist, the sooner she talked to Lháewnis the sooner she would know her fate. "You should know, Mithrandir is at the palace, he is… not himself."

"What does that mean?" Mithrandir hasn't visited them in nearly a hundred years.

"I cannot explain, it is something you will have to see for yourself. He may also have knowledge about your predicament as well. Come, let us run sister." He pulled her along at a brisk pace through the ancient oak trees of the forest.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The faint glow of the distant torches of Edoras guided Éomer and his men home. He had hardly spoken a word to his men after they left Fangorn, he would not have said anything at all if Gamling had not spoken to him about keeping Nárwyn a secret for fear Grima would use her against him. The thought of Wormtongue anywhere near Nárwyn sent him into a rage, he'd tear him apart if he so much as touched her.

He closed his eyes and envisioned her face, her delicate features framed in the burning halo of her red hair. Éomer remembered when she fought, her blades flashing as she twirled them around in a deadly dance with the Uruks. He smiled, if she ever ran into Grima he doubted he'd need to protect her, she could handle the likes of that worm. It did not bother him in the least that she was so skilled with a bow and blade, it just added to his attraction to her.

They were close enough to Edoras for Éomer to make out the shapes of the buildings. He would be home soon; he would at least get a couple nights rest in his bed before he was back out on patrol. He looked up at the sliver of moon hanging in the sky. At least three more weeks before Nárwyn was back at her post, he frowned; it was too long to wait to see her. He thought of riding into Fangorn and looking for her after his patrol of West Emnet was complete. The more he thought of it the less it sounded like a good idea. Nárwyn's people would not look kindly on a man of Rohan charging into their domain, he would likely receive an arrow to the chest before he had a chance to explain himself. No, he would wait until she was back even though he longed for her touch again. The gentle kiss she bestowed on his cheek had ignited something deep within him. This went beyond any normal lust a man may have for a woman, this was a need that seemed to touch his very essence. He knew without a doubt that she cared for him, why else would she risk so much to help him against the Uruk-hai? She sacrificed something important so that he may live; she would not have done that if she did not care for him. To know that such a beautiful and powerful woman held him in some type of affection made his heart soar.

It was early morning before they reached the city gates, the chill in the air seemed to seep through his armor to his bones. He pulled his cloak tight and the faint smell of honeysuckle filled his nose, his cloak still smelled like her. He could not get her out of his head, there was always something drawing her back to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to talk to someone about her, Éowyn was the sleeping now, it would have to wait until morning.

After leaving Firefoot in the stable he finally arrived at his rooms in the living quarters in Meduseld. Servants had already drawn him a bath, the steaming water waited for him. He had been gone for several weeks, the more he was gone, the less it felt like he was home when he returned. Éomer sighed and laid his saddle bags over the back of the chair by the bed. He reached into a small pocket inside one and withdrew several small sheets of curled paper. Underneath his bed he retrieved a small locked wooden box, the key he retrieved from a slit inside the vambrace on his left forearm. Inside the box were several other small slips of paper, he added the latest notes to the collection inside. He had saved them all, every note Nárwyn had left for him. Éomer smiled softly as his fingers lingered on the soft paper. Heavy footfalls in the hallway drew his attention; he quickly locked the box and slid it under his bed. He let out a sigh as the footsteps continued on down the hallway. It angered him to feel such ill ease in what was his home; he hated being here now, if it wasn't for his sister he would stay away. After he talked to Éowyn tomorrow and had his armor repaired, he would go back out on patrol. He did not trust his fate if he stayed in Edoras for too long.

After his bath he made sure the door was locked and climbed into his bed. He placed a dagger under his pillow and in between the wooden frame of his bed and the mattress. It was a long time before sleep overtook him, thoughts of unknown threats in the dark weighed heavy upon him.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The crisp morning air flooded her lungs as they ran through the dark forest. They were almost there, Wellinghall was just ahead. An intense sense of dread filled Nárwyn now that they were almost home. She was usually relieved and happy to end her patrol and join her family at the palace. Not this time, not after what had happened. If Castien of all people could be so angry with her, she was filled with fear over how Father and Aranron would react. Castien was right, she didn't think, she offered her life for a man. None of them would understand she wasn't sure she understood why she did it. All she knew was that she could not let him die. She did not regret saving his life, she felt sorrow over how it would have impacted her family, she felt pain at the disappointment in her brother's eyes but she did not feel any remorse over saving Éomer.

They passed the guards that were standing at the gates of the city and entered the main street heading to the palace. All of this was hidden, obscured by the branches of four great oak trees that towered above. Even if a Nazgûl flew over the top they would not see the city hidden below. Castien paused outside the main door to the palace.

"When we get inside, go clean up, I will find Lháewnis and meet you in the library in an hour," he said. Nárwyn nodded.

"Thank you brother, I will hurry," she said.

"Oh don't thank me sister… I am sure Lháewnis will be less pleased with your decisions than I am." He pulled the doors open and pulled her inside before abruptly turning and headed down the far hall to the left. Nárwyn sighed and walked down the hallway to her right towards her rooms. This is not going to be an easy morning.

The bath did nothing to ease the tension Nárwyn was feeling as she sat on the edge of her bed waiting for the hour to pass. No longer able to wait, she decided to head to the library early; she was driving herself mad just sitting in her room. Nárwyn felt like she was walking to her execution, Lháewnis was one of the oldest amongst them, almost as old as father. In a way she was like her mother, she had helped her father raise her after her mother had died. Lháewnis was stern but never harsh, Nárwyn remembered being afraid to anger her when she was a child. The tall silver-haired violet-eyed woman's unyielding gaze could be quite frightening when she was younger. She never wanted to upset her, always working harder to please her. Nárwyn didn't want to see that look of disappointment in her eyes.

The large oak doors to the library loomed in front of her. With a sigh she pulled open the heavy door, when she peered inside she felt her stomach drop. Waiting for her was Lháewnis and Castien on one side of the small library and Mithrandir and her father on the other. Nárwyn felt the blood drain from her face as she met the stern eyes of her father. Nárwyn was not a coward by any means, she'd fight ten Uruk-hai's at once if she had to, but the displeased look her father gave her made Nárwyn want to turn around and run.

"Come in child," said Lháewnis, as she gestured with her arm for her to sit on the divan next to her. Nárwyn reluctantly took a seat and folded her hands in her lap as she awaited reprimand she knew was coming.

"Castien gave told us what he knows, why don't you start from the beginning and tell us what happened." Nárwyn nodded and began telling them about the party of Uruk-hai she spotted. She looked at her father and Mithrandir, she notice he looked different, his hair and beard were white now yet he didn't appear to have aged any since the last time she saw him.

"They are getting enormous; these Uruks are larger than most men now and stronger by far. Without a full company of riders, I feared Éomer and his men would have been slaughtered," Nárwyn said quietly as she looked back at Lháewnis. "I could not let that happen."

"You were able to reach them in time?" asked Mithrandir, his kind eyes setting her somewhat at ease. Nárwyn nodded.

"Only moments before, I had no time to send a note. I had to intervene and fight with them or the four camped there would have surely perished. I killed seven of them… the riders finished off the rest. During the fighting Éomer was wounded, ran through his side by an Uruk blade," she said.

"Seven? That is quite a feat my lady Nárwyn," Mithrandir remarked. Nárwyn nodded and blushed.

"How bad was the wound?" asked Lháewnis. Nárwyn took a deep breath, memories of that night raced through her mind.

"It was fatal, I tried to mend it with nên nestadren, I was hopeful at first but then he started to bleed out." Nárwyn felt her resolve start to crumble. "I tried Lháewnis but it was not enough. I called to Eru, I had nowhere else to turn, I couldn't let him die Lháewnis… I just couldn't." She buried her head in her hands.

Lháewnis and Mithrandir exchanged looks and Mithrandir nodded. Lháewnis put her hand on Nárwyn shoulder. "Nárwyn, I want you to lie down, I am going to look at Fate's web around you." Upon seeing Nárwyn apprehension, Lháewnis smiled, "Do not worry, no harm will come to you child, you will be asleep. Lie down and put your mind at ease." Nárwyn lay down on the divan and closed her eyes; fear and worry took hold in her heart.

Lháewnis pulled a chair up next to the divan and placed a hand on Nárwyn's forehead. "Losta hên," she said softly. Lháewnis watched as the tension left Nárwyn's body as sleep overtook her. She kept her hand on Nárwyn's forehead and closed her eyes. She could see the patterns as threads of Nárwyn's fate began to take shape in her mind's eye. From the moment she was conceived until now Nárwyn life was laid out in an intricate puzzle of threads resembling a stretched spider's web. There was one thread that stood out from the others, a golden thread that Lháewnis followed.

"Mithrandir, come… I need you to see this," bid Lháewnis. Mithrandir approached the sleeping woman and laid his hand next to Lháewnis on her forehead.

"What do you see?" asked Marcous. "What is to become of my daughter now?"

"She is bonded to the Marshal; his fate is now woven with hers," responded Lháewnis.

"I knew it would be something like that, she does not think!" Castien angrily stood up and walked across the room.

"This is not by her choice Castien, this thread was woven long before her birth. Her path and that of the Marshals were predetermined long ago," Mithrandir said.

"How bonded are they?" asked Marcous. He knew there was nothing that could have prevented this but it still did not make it any easier.

"When she called on Eru it appears some of her light was passed to him. I do not know exactly what that means, only Eru knows. Their fate is tied, that means when he dies, so does she. I am sorry Marcous," Lháewnis said. Marcous bowed his head, this was the worst news he could have received, to know his daughter was going to die.

"There is more I'm afraid," said Mithrandir.

"How could it be worse Mithrandir? My sister's life is now tied to a mortal," Castien said with sorrow in his voice, he walked over and laid a comforting hand on his father's shoulder.

"Éomer is heir to the King of Rohan; he will be involved in the war against Sauron that much I have foreseen. She will need to come with me to Rohan; she must fight at his side," Mithrandir stated.

"Absolutely not," Marcous snapped. "I will not send my daughter off to war; you cannot ask that of me."

"If she does not go I fear Éomer will fall in battle, they are bound in life and in death. It is better she is there for him and for Rohan in these dark days," Mithrandir explained.

"What do you mean better for Rohan?" asked Castien. He didn't like the idea of his sister going to war any better than his father.

"Raelith inspired and rallied men to Eorl; I have foreseen Nárwyn taking on a very similar role to her mothers. You can leave the choice to Nárwyn but I have little doubt in the path she will follow," Mithrandir said as he looked intently at the two men.

"We do not even know this man, you cannot expect me to just accept leaving her in his care," Castien said as he glared at Mithrandir. Lháewnis who had been quiet for most of the discussion spoke up.

"What do you want to know Castien? Through the bond I can see his threads as well. They are dreaming right now," she said with a faint smile. "Neither is aware that the other is real."

"What? They are together right now?" Castien asked in disbelief.

"They are having a picnic somewhere in the grasslands of Rohan," Lháewnis said. "It is by chance they are both sleeping now or we would have missed this opportunity. What did you want to know Castien?" Castien started to say something then shook his head.

"Does he at least care for her?" he asked finally. The thought of his sister's fate being in the hands of a horse lord bothered him. From what he had seen as he watched from the forest, they were a bunch of uncivilized brutes.

"He is in love with her." Lháewnis noticed the look of disbelief on Castien's face. "Why does that surprise you Castien? Your sister is a beautiful woman."

"Well no… I mean it's just that he hardly knows her," Castien muttered.

"He knows his heart, for him there was, is and never will be any other but Nárwyn. Your sister is the one that won't hear her own heart. She doubts, she fights, she does not listen… this will not be an easy journey for her," Lháewnis said sadly as looked down on the sleeping maiden.

"All the more reason for her to come with me to Rohan," Mithrandir noticed the glare from Marcous. "Come now Marcous… they are bonded. You know if they are separated for too long these dreams will eventually lead to madness." Marcous bowed his head and then looked away.

"Madness? Is there any reprieve for my sister? Or is this her doom?" Castien seethed.

"Calm yourself Castien," scolded Lháewnis. "There is a chance for her to know true happiness as well. As with anything there are always many paths, some lead to joy, others to sorrow." She finally pulled her hand from Nárwyn forehead. "Mithrandir is right; she needs to go to Rohan the threads are leading there. Her destiny lies with the Marshal; you cannot keep her here Marcous." There was silence after that; no one was going to argue with Lháewnis. "Let her sleep for now and dream, for she will not have peace like this for some time." Lháewnis motioned the others to leave.

"Just leave her here?" asked Castien uncertainly as he looked at his sleeping sister.

Lháewnis smiled, "Always the overprotective brother… she will be fine Castien, I will sit with her, we have much to discuss when she awakens." Lháewnis retrieved a book from the shelf and sat in the chair next to Nárwyn. "Go on gentlemen," she dismissed them as she opened the book to read leaving the men little choice but to leave.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

_She ran from him, her laughter carrying on the wind as it blew her long copper red hair behind her. It didn't take him long to catch up to her. Éomer wrapped his arms around her waist and they tumbled into the soft deep grass laughing. They rolled briefly and came to a stop with Éomer on top pinning the giggling elf maiden's hands to the ground. The laughter stopped, transforming into something different as Nárwyn gazed up at him with longing in her eyes. Éomer let go of her hands and slowly leaned down and brushed a delicate kiss across her lips. He could feel her soft body underneath him as her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down to her. Their lips met for a second time, he felt her fingers twist in his hair as he deepened the kiss. Her lips were soft and tasted like sweet berries; he found that he could not stop kissing her, each kiss more passionate than the last. Éomer finally broke the kiss and look down at her. Her heavy lidded green eyes stared back at him; they were full of love and desire. She was breathing hard when she reached her hand up and stroked his cheek._

"_Mel nin Éomer," she said before she leaned up and kissed him with such passion that felt like his body was on fire…_

There was loud knocking on the door, Éomer woke with a start; he was covered with sweat and breathing heavily. He looked around his room in confusion, he could still smell honeysuckle in the air… it had been so real, her touch, her kiss… the sweetness of her lips… There was another loud knock on the door.

"Brother wake up! It is nearly midday," called a female voice. Éowyn…

"I'm awake," he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair; he tried to calm his body. She knocked on the door again.

"I don't believe you, open the door," Éowyn said, her voice growing annoyed. Éomer groaned and went to the wash basin to splash some cold water on his face. He dried himself off with the towel and quickly dressed before letting Éowyn in. He swung open the door suddenly startling Éowyn.

"Happy?" he asked as he used a leather cord to tie back his hair. She pushed passed him and had a seat in the chair near the bed.

"I'd be happier if I hadn't heard you're leaving for patrols again so soon. Gamling gave his report to Uncle this morning; he said you were recovering from a wound. Why didn't you wake me when you arrived in the night? How bad is this wound?" Éomer sighed and pulled the door closed and locked it.

"I was wounded by an Uruk blade…it has been healed," he said, unsure of how much to tell his sister. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he didn't think she would believe him. As much as he wanted to talk to someone about Nárwyn he did not, Éowyn was in one of her moods, he didn't want to spend the evening arguing with her about it.

"What do you mean healed? Let me see the wound," she demanded. Éomer sighed, he reached over and grabbed his leather chest piece and showed her the bloodied slice on the side.

"This is the only thing left of the wound," he pulled up his shirt so she could see the area was healed. Éowyn looked over the armor then at his side, the confusion apparent in her eyes.

"How?" she asked incredulously. "This wound if it didn't kill you would have had in bed for weeks!"

"An elf maiden that has been helping us healed my wounds, she is a gifted healer. I was lucky she was near or we would not be having this conversation," Éomer said as he retrieved his armor from his sister and sat it back on the rack near the wall.

"You take too many risks brother," she gave him that thin-lipped disapproving look she always did. She looks just like mother when she does that, Éomer thought.

"Not any more…" he gave her a slight smile. "I believe I have learned my lesson." He was not lying, now that he had found Nárwyn. Éowyn gave a disbelieving snort.

"I will believe you when you finally stay home and help me with Uncle. If you were here, Grima would not have half the power he does at court," she said sourly. Éomer felt himself losing his patience with his sister.

"If I was here more sister, Grima would find a way to finish what the orc blade did not," he said abruptly as he got up to gather his armor to take to the smith.

"Your wrong brother, no one would dare challenge you now that you are Uncle's heir," she said. Éomer leaned against the door for a moment.

"You are naïve Éowyn," he turned to face her. "Where am I more difficult to kill? When I'm on Firefoot heavily armed or asleep in my bed? What is to stop him from poisoning my food or cutting my throat as I sleep?" he said harshly. The look Éowyn gave him made Éomer regret his words. He knew his sister was just as trapped by circumstance as he was. "I am sorry sister; I know that staying here is not easy on you. I received an offer… from the elves for sanctuary for both of us. I think it would be a good idea if you left Meduseld."

"Sanctuary with the elves? What are you talking about Éomer? You cannot ask me to leave Uncle like this. He needs me… he needs both of us," she said angrily, she could not believe Éomer asked her to leave. "I can protect myself; I do not need to hide with the elves."

"Please think about it, for me. I worry about you here alone with Grima; at least if you were with the elves I would know that you are safe. I'm leaving Gamling here this time with Háma. Do not go alone to see Uncle, take one of my men with you at all times," Éomer said as he approached the door again, his armor in hand. "I will be leaving in the morning, when I get back we can talk about the elves more." Éowyn just stared forward with a deadpan gaze.  
"Whatever you wish brother," she said in a flat voice. Éomer sighed, and walked from the room. It was pointless to talk to her when she did this, she would hear no reason but her own. He was glad that he did not bring up Nárwyn to his sister now; it would have brought about a worse argument. His sister has changed so much since Uncle's illness he hardly recognized her at times. She never smiled anymore... He hoped when he was done with patrol in a week that he could convince her to go to Fangorn, it was the only thing he felt could help her now before she was completely lost.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Nárwyn sat at the small desk in the building that housed the falcons and hawks. The walls were lined with simple roosts for the birds and two walls had large open windows so the birds could come and go as they pleased. She was writing a note to Gamling and including instructions to contact her and care for the falcon she was sending. She rolled the note and put it in a small leather tube and called one of the falcons perched on a nearby roost to her. He was a proud bird, his black feathers littered with brown spots and a large smudge of dark grey under his beak. His name was Ren; he was one of the most reliable falcons she had used before. He always was able to find his mark even under the worst weather conditions. She hoped in this case, the hundreds of men in Edoras were not too much for Ren to navigate through. The falcon eyed her curiously as she tied a small whistle to his foot along with the usual message tube.

"_Hir Gamling, rib haradren_," she said as she visualized Gamling's face in her mind. Ren let out a few clicking noises and a squeaky chirp and leapt off the small desk and out the window.

Nárwyn sat at the desk for a while listening to the birds and lost in her own thoughts. It had been several hours since she awoke from another dream about Éomer; it was still vivid in her mind. The dream played on her mind and made her miss him more. Lháewnis said the dreams would get worse the longer she was away from him. She said Éomer was having the same problem but it was worse for him because humans slept more than elves. This was one of the many things it meant to be bonded with someone. Lháewnis had gone through a long list of things that terrified her, she now knew the price. She had been surprised when Lháewnis did not chastise her for her decisions regarding Éomer; instead she offered sad smiles and hugs when Nárwyn told her tale. She did not want Lháewnis' pity or understanding, it made it worse because they both knew her fate; it was now bound to a mortal. Nárwyn was not dense, she knew what that meant… when he dies, so would she. She had never really thought about her death, she knew it was a possibility but unless she was careless she could have hundreds if not thousands of years of life… that was no longer the case. Nárwyn would be a liar if she didn't admit there was some fear and bitterness at the prospect of a human's lifespan. Lháewnis could not tell her if this meant she would age like a human or if she would just stay the same and die sixty years from now. Death was one thing but to grow old and feeble was not something she had ever anticipated and it scared her. Her ears twitched at a faint sound.

"I do not wish to speak with you Castien," she said cheerlessly. He pulled up a small stool that was against the wall and sat down next to her.

"I didn't come here to argue with you sister but if you need me to listen I will be here if it pleases you," he said softly. Nárwyn glanced at him; he was just sitting there quietly with his elbows on his knees watching the birds. It was rare to see him so solemn and still, his very nature was quite the opposite.

The two sat there in quiet for over an hour watching the birds preen themselves and the new birds arriving to roost for night. It was nearing dusk and the shadows were expanding as the sun dropped lower in the western sky. Nárwyn looked at her brother again, he had not moved since the last time she looked. A small sigh escaped her lips.

"I'm going to have to leave…" she said as she looked out the far window at the shadows across the tree trunk.

"I know," replied Castien. Nárwyn sat there quietly for a few more moments.

"I never put much thought into time… I am nearly five hundred years old. I always thought that I would have time to do whatever I chose to do. A husband… children… there was no need to hurry. I no longer have the luxury of time…" she gave Castien a sad smile. "How does an elf live with limited time?"

"You live sister… you live as if every moment is going to be your last. Live life to its fullest do not waste one second of it. It is one thing elves have forgotten that humans have not. Live in the now dear sister… not the past, not the future but today."

"You make it sound so easy…" she said cynically.

"I never said it was going to be easy," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, well thank you for clarifying that brother…" she glared at him. The glare slowly melted into a slight smile. "Thank you… for being here."

"I'm your brother, where else would I be?" Castien stood up and pulled Nárwyn up and into a hug. "Come, we should have some dinner. Father is going to call Aranron back from the mines; he should be here in a week." Nárwyn sighed, even though she was glade her eldest brother was returning she dreaded seeing a look of disappointment or pity in his eyes. Castien felt her body tense after he mentioned his brother. "Do not worry sister; he will not judge you as I did. Aranron is far wiser than I am, he will understand that none of this was your choice." Nárwyn pulled away from her brother suddenly feeling anger at his words

"Not my choice…" the words were like acid on her tongue. "I am beginning to wonder if any decision I have ever made was my choice," she said bitterly as she turned away from him.

"You cannot think like that sister, we all have choices," he said.

"We do? Lháewnis explained in great detail how the moment my mother fled from Eorl my fate was decided. Do you know how that feels brother? To know that your choices were never truly your own? How much of my thoughts, my feelings, my very personality is dictated by the threads?" Nárwyn could feel her resolve slipping. The more she thought about what all this meant, the more anger and despair filled her heart. "Éomer is just as much of a pawn in the game as I am. Now we are bound to this misery… even if I felt anything for him, I realize now it was just a manipulation of the threads to meet a certain outcome. That is all it will ever be," she practically spat the words. Castien could do nothing but stare at his sister. "I have no appetite brother, I am just going to return to my rooms," she said finally after a long pause. "Thank you for listening." She gave him a quick embrace before leaving the building. Castien watched her go, he could not bear to see his sister this way, she was so lost and filling with bitterness, he had to do something to help her. Castien left to find his father and Lháewnis; they would know what to do.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was day and a half since Éomer and the Rohirrim had left Edoras, they had been blessed with good weather that spring. Éomer decided to head north before going east to patrol West Emnet; he did not know why he decided on this route, Éomer often trusted his gut in situations like this.

"Eothain!" he shouted to a rider near the back of the company. "Scout the borders of the forest before we lose the light." The rider nodded and sped his horse towards the tree line in the distance.

"Are we to set up came here in the open my Lord?" asked Hérmod.

"No, we'll wait for Eothain then move closer to the forest for the night," Éomer said as he patted Firefoot's neck. There was a feeling of unease he just couldn't shake, it had started a few hours ago. At first he just passed it off as nerves considering this was the first patrol since he had nearly died, but it wasn't that. He felt like all his senses were stronger, more acute. He could not but wonder if this was because of Nárwyn and the magic she used to heal him. Before he could ponder if further he caught sight of Eothain charging back towards the company.

"My lord! There is a company of Uruk-hai heading west along the edges of Fangorn," said the young rider breathlessly. "There are many… at least thirty."

"They must be headed to Isengard… we are downwind from them here. We will head west and in the night we attack! Let us keep pace… Eothain let me know the moment they stop." The rider nodded and traded his horse for a rested mount before heading back to watch the Uruks.

The sun had set long ago but they still rode, Éomer had dispatched two other scouts to keep track of the Uruk-hai. He had noticed the pace of the Uruks had lessened, they were tiring… it was only a matter of time. It was another hour before two of the scouts returned, they reported the Uruks had stopped and were building a fire. Eothain returned shortly after the others with the same report but said there had been infighting when he left.

"We ride now when they are distracted!" he urged Firefoot forward. He led the Rohirrim to the east so they would stay downwind as they charge to the Uruks, they would have no time to rally. Éomer could see the campfire in the distance; he could see the black shapes moving around it. He drew his sword and held it ready as he pushed Firefoot into a faster gallop. The Uruks were fighting in a mob near the fire; they did not hear the hooves of the horses as they bore down on them. Éomer had never felt this aware; he could hear their arguing and smell their rancid bodies well before he was in range. He drove Firefoot directly in the middle of the feuding Uruks, his blade slicing through their ranks. Éomer seemed to strike harder and faster than he had ever done before, he left a trail of carnage in his wake. The battle was over before it had really begun, the Uruks were destroyed. After Éomer charged through the rest of the Rohirrim followed, killing everything in sight. The few that tried to run were shot down by bow and arrow. A few riders had dismounted and were systematically stabbing the corpses as they walked ensuring there were no survivors.

"There were orcs here a well my Lord, these were not all Uruk-hai," said Hérmod as he dismounted. Éomer rode around the area surveying the battle scene. There were several smaller orc bodies littering the ground along with the Uruks.

"Pile the carcasses over here, away from the forest and burn them. We will camp upwind," he ordered. He rode to the west a few hundred yards and dismounted. A couple of his men had followed him and started to set up camp. Éomer walked to the forest edge and stared out into the darkness. He couldn't help but feel drawn to the forest now… he knew she was in there, so close but out of his reach. He sighed as he pulled his bedroll off of the back of his saddle. He did not want to sleep, the dreams were torture. She has haunted his sleep since that night, every morning he wakes up with terrible longing worse than the previous dawn. He lay down and stared up at the stars, he tried not to think about the three weeks until he would get to see her again.

Dawn came quickly, Éomer was woken by Hérmod who handed him a small bowl of nuts and watery porridge and sat down next to him. Éomer was still groggy from the sleep, the dream he had of her was still encompassing his mind. He just stared down at the bowl as he wrestled with yearnings that had started to become routine in the morning. The near overwhelming urge to run into Fangorn was tearing at the edges of his reason.

"You are going to need to find the elf maid soon, my Lord" commented Hérmod. Éomer looked at him sharply.

"Why do you say that Hérmod?" he asked, his voice tight. The older rider sighed and turned to face his commander.

"I spent a few years in the north my Lord, with the Lorien elves, I picked up their language for the most part and their stories. Did your uncle ever tell you the one of Lúthien and Beren?" he asked. Éomer shook his head, his uncle told them lots of stories of the elves but Éomer rarely listened. Stories of elves were not as important as sword play to a young boy. "The story of Lúthien and Beren was the first account of an elf falling in love with a mortal and the tragedy that befell them."

"What do you mean? What does this have to do with Nárwyn?" asked Éomer.

"The story is about the elf maiden Lúthien who fell in love with a man, Beren. Her father set an impossible bride price for the man to pay, a Silmaril from the iron crown of Morgoth. They managed to achieve the task Beren died. The grief of losing him caused Lúthien to die as well. In the Halls of Mandos the gods are moved by pity, Eru gives Lúthien a choice, live in Valimar forever or be restored to life again with Beren and die the death of Men. She choose the latter and lived and died as a mortal," Hérmod said quietly. "The night you fell my Lord, she called to Eru… she offered her life in exchange for yours." Éomer couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew it had cost her to heal him but he never imagined she would offer her life for his. Hérmod had to be wrong; she had no reason to do this.

"How do you know this?" he asked Hérmod.

"I heard her call out the words when you were dying my Lord," he replied. "I don't know everything that happened when she did it but elves have a lot of similar stories where an elf gives up their immortality for a mortal. Theses sacrifices always come with a price, most either end in death or some type of bond between the two until death. You are both alive… " Hérmod trailed off, he knew the meaning was not lost on Éomer. "We hear you call out her name when you sleep, when we check on you… you look like you are in pain. I think for your sake my Lord that you should not wait; you should seek her out and find out what is happening to you." Éomer sat there quietly looking at the forest, everything Hérmod said made sense… how weak she was after he was healed, the dreams… all of it. Why would she do this? They hardly knew each other. Éomer felt an overwhelming sense of guilt; his actions had forced this, he was to blame for this. He would make it right… there had to be a way to reverse this, to break any bond between them without death. Nárwyn's father was of the House Fëanor, one of the eldest elven houses. He had to know of a way to fix this. Éomer's mind was set, after this patrol he would take his chances and go north into Fangorn and find this Wellinghall she mentioned.

"After this patrol… I will follow Entwash north. I will go to the elves," he said resolutely. "Thank you Hérmod."

"No need to thank me my Lord. I'd like to go with you, I could translate for you, it would be better than going alone," said Hérmod. Éomer nodded as he stood up.

"That would be good… it might prevent me from getting shot." He did a quick survey of his men, "Send Eothain to quickly scout to the east while the rest of us pack up, I don't want any surprises." Hérmod bowed and set out to find Eothain.

It was nearly an hour before Eothain returned. Éomer were ready to go by then, the camp site was cleared and the horses were ready to run.

"My lord!" called Eothain as he rushed to the group of mounted riders. "There is a man, a dwarf and an elf on foot headed across the plain from the south east, they are coming this way!" Éomer cursed under his breath, he had wanted the rest of this patrol to be uneventful. It did not appear it was going to be.

"Lead the way Eothain! Let us find out why we have such a peculiar group trespassing on our lands." Éomer urged Firefoot forward as he followed behind Eothain to intercept the small group.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was late in the afternoon when Nárwyn's father requested her presence for a meeting in his study. She felt as if her father had been avoiding her since she returned six days ago. He had been upset to learn about the bond she now shared with Éomer but he had not been angry at her, just sad and that bothered her more. Nárwyn had tried to talk to him several times since Lháewnis had seen the threads binding her fate but he was always in council with Mithrandir. While she was glad she would finally have the opportunity to talk to him, she felt hurt over his distant behavior.

Nárwyn was disappointed to find Mithrandir with her father in his study. Her hopes of having a private conversation with her father about her situation crumbled when she watched Mithrandir take a seat on the far side of the room.

"You wished to see me Father?" she asked. She bowed her head at Mithrandir and waited for her father's reply. Marcous got up from behind his desk and embraced his daughter. Nárwyn felt all of her hurt and disappointment wash away from her as her father held her tight in his arms.

"I have so much to talk with you about, forgive me for not doing it earlier, we have had a lot of planning to do," Marcous said softly. Nárwyn felt foolish for feeling that her father was purposefully avoiding her.

"It's ok; I have had a lot to think about these past few days…" She looked at Mithrandir, "Lháewnis tells me that I'm going to be leaving with you soon? She did not tell me where though or why…"

"You will be coming with me to Rohan child, Saruman has taken King Théoden's mind hostage. We will ride to Edoras in a few days," replied Mithrandir. Nárwyn felt her heart speed up; she would be going to his home… Éomer may very well be there when they arrive. She felt a nervous apprehension fill her, she knew she was going to have to see him again, they were bonded but she did not think it was going to be so soon.

"So soon…" she murmured. "What has happened to Saruman Mithrandir? I know he is corrupt now; the orcs and Uruk-hai's have taken over the Orthanc. How could this happen to an Istari?" Mithrandir gave her a sad smile and patted the chair next to him for her to sit. It reminded her of times long ago when Mithrandir would visit them and tell her stories as a child. She sat down in the chair and waiting for him to begin his story.

"The One Ring has been found," he stated calmly. Nárwyn felt a wave of nausea hit her; her eyes sought her father for confirmation. The look he returned spoke volumes, the fear and uncertainty apparent in his eyes. "It is in route to Mordor as we speak to be destroyed."

"How? By whom? Why are you here and not with the ring?" she asked, her mind reeling. She started to ask more questions when Mithrandir laughed and waved her off, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe.

"This story will take some time to tell," he said as he packed his pipe. He lit the Pipe-weed with a nearby candle and sat back in the chair. "For you to understand how the One Ring was found I must tell you about Hobbits for it is a hobbit named Bilbo that found the ring over fifty years ago…" Mithrandir told his tale starting with Bilbo finding the ring until the battle with Balrog of Moria. Nárwyn sat there enthralled by his story, her mind was racing, it seemed almost too much to believe.

"The Valar… they sent you back?" she asked.

"Yes, until my task is done. We are at a crossroads, the fate of Middle Earth hangs but by a thread. The Ring Bearer cannot resist the powers of the ring forever. Sauron is not waiting for the ring to come to him, he is gathering his forces, and war is inevitable. Saruman is but a pawn of Sauron, he thinks he can share power with Sauron… he is a fool." Mithrandir looked at Marcous who nodded. "I need your help Nárwyn… Éomer needs your help." Nárwyn looked at him sharply. "Your fate is tied to him and to Rohan, you need to come with me to Rohan, help him fight in the war against Saruman." A wide range of emotions filled Nárwyn, fear, anger, worry… it was difficult to focus on just one. She felt like a cornered animal, cornered by fate, she had but one choice. Mithrandir leaned over and patted her hand. "We all are ruled by fate; even the smallest decision can change the world. Do not look on what has happened to you as a curse, fate may lay out the path but it is we that choose to walk it… you always have a choice."

"It doesn't feel like that sometimes," she said bitterly. Mithrandir smiled.

"You could always stay here…" he said with a slight smile.

"I cannot stay here… you know I could not possibly stay here now!" she said indignantly. Mithrandir smiled and patted her hand again.

"That is not fate making that decision… you confuse making a difficult choice with having no choice… we always have a choice even if that choice is not to our liking." Nárwyn started to argue but the fire of her anger was slowly drowning in the logic Mithrandir stated.

"Why are we waiting? Why not leave now?" she asked resigning to what was to come.

"I am waiting for some friends to arrive… until then we have to prepare. You need to be ready for the challenges that are going to await you in Rohan and beyond." Mithrandir looked to Marcous who stood and approached Nárwyn with a small wooden box. He pulled up a chair and sat across from his daughter.

"I have something of your grandfathers… you will need this… for protection." Marcous opened the box, inside was a ring, its golden band shimmered in the light. Delicate gold and silver leaves wrapped around the outside of the band until they met in the middle. A deep green gem stood out in the center, the brilliance of the stone drawing her eyes in. Nárwyn felt the overwhelming urge to touch the ring, before she knew it her hand was almost upon it. When she realized what she was doing she pulled her hand back quickly startling her father. "It is alright Nárwyn… no harm will come to you," he said trying to reassure her. Nárwyn looked at the ring as if it was a viper.

"It calls to me to touch it… Why would you want me to have this? Is has power…" she said as she stared at the ring.

"The ring is not one of the rings of power corrupted by Sauron. It was made before the One Ring by your grandfather and Celebrimbor, even before the Rings of the Elves. The rings name is Caennin; it was forged deep under Moria in a river of fire. Do not fear it Nárwyn, we would never give you something that would harm you," said Mithrandir. Nárwyn eyed the ring suspiciously.

"What does it do?" she asked, still not convinced the ring was as harmless as they said.

"It will protect you, we know that much. Your grandfather said it saved him many times when he stole the Silmaril from Morgoth. He left the ring in my possession when he went to search for his Silmaril," explained Marcous.

"Have you used it Father?" she asked. Marcous shook his head. "So you have never worn it?" Again Marcous shook his head.

"It was not meant for me… I left it in the box, this is the first time I have looked on it in a thousand years," he said.

"Neither of you know what this ring does do you?" she asked incredulously. She looked at her father, "How can you ask this of me?" her eyes pleading. "Please father…" Marcous turned away; no longer able to bear his daughters stare.

"We cannot tell you what the ring does exactly because it will be different for each person that wears it," Mithrandir said. "The ring is not evil; it has the power to save your life. Your father and I feel you will need it before this journey ends." Nárwyn looked between the two men and the ring; she knew how dangerous the rings of power were. Her father and Mithrandir just sat there waiting for her; she knew they would never harm her. She had to trust them and let go of her fear. Nárwyn took a deep breath and slowly reached for the ring.

When her fingers touched the ring it felt warm to the touch, that was unexpected. She slowly wrapped her fingers around the band; she noticed it was too large for any of her fingers. Nárwyn was also surprised at how heavy the ring was when she lifted it out of the box and held it in her palm. It seemed smaller now; she turned it around looking at it in amazement. She slipped it onto her forth finger of her right hand, it was a perfect fit. She looked at her father and Mithrandir, her eyes wide.

"How?" she asked as she looked down at the ring, it seemed warmer now. Nárwyn felt her whole body shiver as the rings power flowed through her. As quickly as it started it was gone, leaving Nárwyn flushed and alarmed. She reached down and tried to pull the ring off, panic set in as she tugged and pulled and the ring would not budge. She felt Mithrandir's cover hers as she frantically tried to remove the ring from her finger.

"Nárwyn! Calm down, it's alright. Stop! You will only hurt yourself," he said as he clasped both her hands in his. "This is nothing to fear, the ring is just … trying to learn things about you. Once it is done you will be able to take it off. Narya did the same thing when I first placed it on my finger." He showed her the ring of power that he wore on his finger. Mithrandir held her hands until her breathing slowed and she was no longer distressed.

"You could have warned me," she said glaring at her father and Mithrandir.

"I am sorry child; it has been many years since I placed Narya on my finger… I had forgotten," he said sheepishly. Nárwyn felt her anger rise; she opened her mouth to say just how angry she was when her father raised his hand silencing her.

"It is done Nárwyn… put aside your anger there is much we still have to do. Come…" he stood and beckoned her to follow him to the table in the far corner of the study. On the table was a large trunk, Marcous pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it. Nárwyn gave Mithrandir one last glare and went to her father. Inside the trunk was a set of new armor, it was different than her current set, the deep forest green leather was thicker and harder. She reached in and pulled out the chest piece, it was as light as her normal armor. She was amazed at the detail of the designs embedded in the leather of an oak leaf and several runes for protection.

"This is amazing Father," she said as she admired the armor. Marcous smiled, pleased that she liked it.

"We've been working on it night and day since Mithrandir told me you would have to go with him to Rohan… I wanted you to be protected," he said softly. Nárwyn put the armor down and hugged her father.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes filled with tears as she clung to her father. Marcous held his daughter tight; pain filled his heart when he thought of her leaving. He could only hope that her training and the Marshal would keep her from harm. There was a knock on the door, Nárwyn pulled away from her father and moved to open the door. One of the guards stood outside, his face was trouble and his stance was anxious.

"My Lady," he said breathlessly. Nárwyn nodded and motioned him into the room towards her father. The guard knelt and bowed his head. "My Lord, Treebeard is here… he has two children with him." Nárwyn gave her father a confused look, where would Treebeard find children she thought.

"Ah! Sooner than I expected," said Mithrandir as he stood up from his chair. He turned towards Nárwyn, "You had best finish packing child, we leave in the morning!"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

**Elvish Translation:**

**nên nestadren** - water of healing

"_**Losta hên"**_ – "Sleep child"

"_**Mel nin Éomer"**_ - "Love me Éomer"

"_**Hir Gamling, rib haradren."**_ – "Find Gamling, fly south"


	4. Chapter 3 - The Rescue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings material or benefit financially in any way.

**Authors Note:** There was a lot to cover in this chapter. It is a hybrid of the book and movies leaning more to the books. This chapter took a while to write, it was harder to incorporate her with the previous fellowship members than I thought… plus working late doesn't help or getting writers block. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

**Chapter 3 – The Rescue**

Nárwyn stood outside the palace in the crisp morning air. She was unable to sleep the night before, the impending journey weighed heavily on her thoughts. The noise from the hall did not help; Castien was up all night entertaining the hobbits. Nárwyn shook her head and smiled as she thought about last night, her brother had made fast friends with Merry and Pippin. They had a lot in common, love of drink, love of song and love of Pipe-weed, maybe Castien was not an elf at all but an overgrown hobbit she mused.

She absently spun Caennin around on her finger as she waited for Mithrandir and her family to come. The ring had loosened its hold on her finger and she did not fear it any more… there were plenty of other things to fear. Soon she will be leaving her home to go to Rohan… to go to him. The thought of seeing him again brought on terrible anxiety. How was she going to tell him about the bond? She feared what his reaction will be… the thought of his anger or rejection was almost too much for her to bear. Nárwyn sighed and started to pace on the small walkway that led to the steps of the palace She was growing impatient and wished Mithrandir was here so they could leave… to just get it over with.

Nárwyn heard the doors open; she turned to see her brother stumble out the door and down the stairs. She smirked as he flopped down gracelessly on to the stone bench. Nárwyn couldn't resist taunting him when he was in this condition; it was something she relished doing for centuries now.

"It's such a lovely morning! Don't you think so brother? "she said in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone. Nárwyn walked over to the side of the walkway so her back was to the rising sun. Castien groaned but kept his head down, his fingers gingerly rubbing his temples. "I see that you had fun with your new friends… "

"The hobbits are fun," he said with a faint smile that turned to a grimace as if the sound of his own voice hurt his head. "Maybe too much fun…" he muttered.

"What is wrong with your eyes Castien? They have a strange look about them…" She knew it was not a nice thing to do to him in his current state but she could not resist.

"My eyes? What…!" he had looked up at her and the bright sunlight poured around her silhouette, her golden-copper hair amplifying the beams that stabbed directly into his eyes blinding him. He yelped and covered his eyes, his head was now throbbing.

"That was just plain mean sister," he glowered. Nárwyn laughed as she sat down next to him, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"It is your own fault brother…" she said as she looked up at him. "You said last night that I had to learn to be 'mean' if I was going to go live with the barbarians and have little barbarians..."

"I said that?" Castien groaned. "Sorry about that... you know how I get when I have a bit too much."

"Of course, you turn into an obnoxious ass," Nárwyn said sweetly as she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Oww! Mercy sister, am I not suffering enough? My head feels like it will split soon," he whimpered.

"Have Lháewnis make you some tea," Nárwyn suggested.

"She already told me she wouldn't after I got out my special wine last night," Castien said as he rubbed his eyes. "She's a cruel woman to make me suffer. You kind sister, could whip me up a batch couldn't you?" he asked hopefully.

"I already packed up my herbs… sorry." Nárwyn said as she watched the sun climb higher in the sky.

"You would not have made it for me anyway…" he muttered bitterly. "The least either of you could do is teach me how it is made," he whined.

"If we did that you would be in the wine every night," she laughed. Castien glared at her and grumbled under his breath. Nárwyn was about to continue her needling when she noticed a falcon circling in the sky above them. The falcon started a free-fall directly towards them. Nárwyn quickly stood up and held out her arm for the bird. It was Ren… Nárwyn felt her heart speed up as the bird glided in for a landing. Ren landed on her forearm, his sharp eyes studying her as she untied the message tube from his leg.

"Take him please," she said to Castien as she took the tube from his leg. Castien held out his arm and whistled and the falcon hopped to his arm. With shaky fingers Nárwyn worked the paper out of the small leather cylinder. She unrolled the paper and started to read.

"_My Lady, Lord Éomer has been arrested for treason. Grima means to execute him in 7 days. Please help. –Gamling"_

"Sister? What is it?" Castien asked his voice full of concern as he watched the color drain from her face and noticed her trembling hands. Nárwyn reread the note multiple times hoping the words would say something different each time she read them, she wasn't even aware of how bad her hands were shaking. She finally broke away from the shock of the news and looked around in a panic.

"I have to leave… I have to leave now!" She handed him the note and raced up the stairs to find Mithrandir and her father.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

They had been walking through the forest for several hours and Nárwyn's patience was waning. The goodbyes had been hurried earlier… quick hugs and kisses and then she was rushing Mithrandir down the path to the forest. She hoped her family understood her urgency, after the note, Nárwyn could only think about getting to Edoras… to Éomer. Nárwyn felt like they were going in circles looking for these friends of Mithrandir. If they would have just gone directly south instead of east of the Entwash River they could be on the plains by now. Her frustration at Mithrandir's pace was also getting to be a factor; did the man not understand the meaning of haste? She wanted to scream out in frustration and just leave Mithrandir behind.

"Nárwyn we need to stop here," Mithrandir said as they passed under the great oaks next to a low stone wall.

"Why? We are losing light," she said impatiently.

"We need to stop here because this is where they will meet us," he said simply.

"Maybe I should go on ahead, we can meet at Edoras…" she said as she looked to the south.

"No, you will wait here. Nárwyn, we will get there in time," he said trying to calm her. "We will need help and you cannot do this alone."

"I could, I would go in the night…" she tried to reason but Mithrandir cut her off.

"You will do him no good if you were captured. Please, try to be patient; we will get to Éomer in time." Nárwyn started pacing as Mithrandir took a seat on one of the stones.

"You have no idea how this feels Mithrandir…"she said wringing her hands. She felt like she was losing her mind, she had never been this worried about anything or anyone before. "I don't want to sit; I need to keep moving… I feel we are going to be too late." she said quietly. She pace more before finally sitting down on the ground next to Mithrandir and buried her face in hands. Mithrandir placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Trust me Nárwyn, Grima will not succeed, we will make it in time," he said softly as he smiled down at the distressed maiden at his feet. They sat there quietly for several minutes, Nárwyn thoughts were in turmoil, she felt helpless… a feeling she despised. The only other time she truly felt this helpless was when Éomer was dying... She shook her head and tried to banish the memories of that night. Mithrandir stood up suddenly; his eyes scanned the trees to the south east. "They are almost here, it would be best if you stay out of sight until I call you."

"I thought they were your friends?" she asked as she stood up and dusted off her leggings.

"They think I'm dead, I'm not sure how they will react to seeing me," he said with a slight grin. "Whatever happens, do not engage them. I will handle this," he said firmly. Nárwyn shrugged and climbed up into the nearest oak tree.

"I will stay up here then," she said as she made herself comfortable on a thick limb. "Are you sure you won't need my help if they attack?"

"I sure…" Mithrandir said absently as he stared into the shadows of the forest.

"If you say so..." said Nárwyn not entirely convinced of the Istari's abilities at combat. She had never seen him fight in the nearly five hundred years she has known him. She tried to clear her mind enough to hear the tree song on the wind; her anxiety had been too high earlier to focus. Nárwyn lay back on the tree limb and closed her eyes, she let her mind wander as she started to hear the song on the wind. It calmed her to hear the melody again; she didn't realize how much of a comfort it was until now. The voices were many, the trees were not pleased to have three strangers in the woods. They were definitely close, so close she could hear them now. She sat up on the limb and watched as they slowly came into view. There were three of them, a man… he had a bow, he moved quick and surefooted; there was a grace to his movements one only finds from combat. A ranger of sorts she speculated, but unlike any she has seen near Fangorn.

There was an elf, this surprised her; his hair was like Lháewnis a silver-blond that was braided. He too had a bow and similar swords to her own, he was wary of the trees. He could hear the song but she doubted he understood it, only elves of Fangorn new all of the words. His stance reminded Nárwyn of her brother Aranron, disciplined, reserved and fast.

The third could only be a dwarf; she had never seen one before. Her brothers had told many tales about them from before they came to Fangorn. He carried an ax and she could feel the anger from the trees as he walked past them. They were approaching the stones where Mithrandir waited; he had pulled his grey cloak up. From in her perch in the oak tree she could hear them talking.

"See the old man, he is hooded and cloaked…" said the elf.

"They say Saruman wanders the forest disguised as old man," said the man. Nárwyn had to suppress a laugh, how could they think Mithrandir was Saruman. They were almost upon Mithrandir, Nárwyn readied her bow, regardless of what he said, she would not let these fools harm him. The dwarf ran up his ax raised.

"Saruman!" he yelled. "Where are the hobbits? What have you done with them?" He swung at Mithrandir but the ax was easily deflected with his staff and sent flying into the underbrush, the force of the blow also sent the dwarf reeling and he fell to the side. Nárwyn was amazed; she did not know the old wizard had it in him. Mithrandir pulled off his cloak revealing his white robes which seemed to emanate a light of their own blinding the other two. The elf shot an arrow at him which Mithrandir easily deflected sending it flying towards Nárwyn only to embed in the tree trunk right above her head. She cursed under her breath and glared at the men below. The ranger drew his sword to charge the Istari, the metal turned orange as if it was newly forged and the man dropped it yelling in pain. Nárwyn could see the fear in the ranger's eyes.

"Do you not know me Aragorn?" Mithrandir asked as the light from his white robes started to dim.

"Mithrandir!" cried the elf as he dropped to his knees, his head bowed in respect.

"How is this possible? We saw you fall…" the one Mithrandir called Aragorn said as he slowly dropped to his knees, shock evident on his face.

"Gandalf!" the dwarf exclaimed as he pulled himself from the forest floor. Nárwyn could see tears of joy in his eyes.

"Yes… Gandalf, that was my name… Gandalf the Grey." Mithrandir smiled at them with a gleam in his eyes. "I am Gandalf the White and I have come back to you now at the crossroads… a great storm is coming. By the grace of Eru I have been granted life again, I have been sent back until my task is done," he said. Mithrandir looked up at the tree, "Nárwyn… you can come down now." Nárwyn reached up and pulled the arrow from the tree; then effortlessly swung down from the branch above and landed next to Mithrandir. She gave them all a wary yet appraising look; she was still not comfortable around strangers.

"Nárwyn… this is Aragorn son of Arathorn," he said as he reached out and clasped Aragorn's shoulder. "This is Prince Legolas son of King Thranduil of the Mirkwood elves." He motioned towards the dwarf. "And this is Gimli son of Glóin. Gentlemen… this is Princess Nárwyn, daughter of King Marcous the Lord of Fangorn and son of Maglor. She will be joining us." Their eyes widened when Mithrandir stated her titles, Nárwyn felt uncomfortable as they stared at her. She hated the title of 'princess', she always attributed it to weak little maidens that hid in palaces. It was a title she has ran from her entire life, it was one she did not want tossed around now.

"I am Watcher Nárwyn," she said as she bowed, she gave Mithrandir a slight glare. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Gandalf, how can this be? There are no elves in Fangorn and Maglor died long ago…" said Aragorn as he cautiously eyed Nárwyn. She could tell he did not believe and saw her as a potential threat.

"There are thousands of elves in Fangorn and have been for over a thousand years. How many are there Nárwyn?" he asked as he stroked his beard.

"The last time my father did a census there were well over seven thousand," she said as she twirled the arrow in her fingers. She walked over to Legolas and handed him the arrow. "I believe this is yours," she said with a smirk. He gave her a confused look and nodded, he placed the arrow back in his quiver.

"How can there be that many elves in Fangorn… surely someone would have said something? They would have been found by now…" Legolas gave her an intense stare that seem to be meant to test her somehow. Nárwyn met his gaze with a look of amusement and arrogance, causing him to divert his eyes.

"Oh Galadriel and Elrond know, they just respected Marcous' wishes and did not interfere with Fangorn. Everyone else has been too fearful to enter the woods so is it really that surprising to learn there are elves living here in secret?" Mithrandir asked.

"We are very good at not being seen, you probably passed at least three Watchers on your way here," Nárwyn said as she looked up. The others looked up as well, they seemed less sure of themselves now.

"Gandalf, where are the hobbits?" asked Gimli, as he pulled his ax from the small cropping of bushes by the center oak tree.

"The hobbits are quite fine. They are guests of King Marcous… I'm sure they are having their fill of food and drink as we speak," he chuckled. "They will be safe there until we send for them."

"We will not be joining them?" asked Aragorn. "We could use a rest as well." Nárwyn was about to argue when Mithrandir raised his hand.

"No Aragorn, we will rest when we get to Edoras. Nárwyn brother will take good care of the hobbits." To those words Nárwyn snorted earning her a glare from the Istari. "We can discuss this more as we travel south." He started walking back towards the river; he stopped and beckoned them to follow.

"We have horses," said Aragorn. "We left them just inside the forest, we cannot leave them."

"I will get them," volunteered Nárwyn. "I can move faster in the forest." She walked over to one of the trees and started climbing. She called back to Mithrandir, "Meet just east of the river in the clearing?" Nárwyn saw him nod, she left quickly not leaving the others time to protest. Nárwyn wanted to give Mithrandir time alone with these new companions, her presence added too many questions. Quickly she ran over the tree limbs, it seemed good to be able to move, Nárwyn now felt that she was making some kind of progress after hours of wandering the forest with Mithrandir. She opened her mind to the trees, searching for the location of the horses; it did not take long to locate them. As she leapt from one branch to the other she thought of the morning when she was running to Éomer's camp site… this was the first time since that fateful morning she had been in the trees. She was going to miss this, her heart felt heavy when she thought about leaving the forest… it was all she has ever known. These trees have been her companions for many years, she knew the cities of men were barren and did not know how she was going to handle that.

The horses were huddled together near the forest edge slowly chewing on some grass that grew near the base of the trees. Nárwyn carefully and quietly lowered herself to the ground away from the horses so she did not startle them. She was gentle in her approach and rested a hand on the first horses neck, she noticed the bridle and the saddle… these were Rohirrim horses. Nárwyn wondered how they were able to obtain these horses… they were prized; the Rohirrim would not part with them lightly. She carefully gathered the reins of both horses and led them out of the forest. Once the reins of the brown horse were securely tied to the saddle of the other horse she climbed up and whispered some commands softly in the horse's ear, she urged the horse forward into a trot as they headed west. Once they reached the open plain she pushed the horses into a gallop towards the rendezvous point, the sun would set soon and they would need to camp for the night. They would still be a day and a half from Edoras and even though Mithrandir had tried to ease her mind she was still full of dread.

The final rays of the sun were spilling over the plains before she reached the river. Nárwyn could see the faint flickers of a campfire a short distance up the river bank; she urged the horses forward mindful of the uneven ground along the bank. When she reached the small party she slid off the horses back and presented the reins to Legolas who was waiting. She sought out Aragorn immediately.

"These horses… where did you get them?" she asked. "They are Rohirrim horses…" Aragorn gave her an odd look.

"Yes they are, they were given to us by one of the Eorlingas to use, he thought his men killed the hobbits by accident when they destroyed the party of Uruk-hai that had taken them," he said. "His name was Éomer; he said he was nephew to Théoden." Nárwyn did not realize she was holding her breath until she released it.

"When?" she asked, not willing to hope.

"Three days ago my Lady," Aragorn watched as relief filled her features. "Do you know this man?" Nárwyn did not answer instead she looked at Mithrandir who smiled back at her. Her fear that the message had come too late was abated. Ren must have made the trip in less than a day.

"I told you we had time my dear, we will get to Éomer in plenty of time," Mithrandir said. Nárwyn nodded, she was overwhelmed with emotions, relief, joy and worry, they were about to overcome her carefully crafted mask of calm.

"Excuse me," she said to no one in particular and retreated into the forest. She did not want to show weakness to them, she found a tall oak and climbed to the top. Her nerves have been rubbed raw; all of the worry and fear have eroded her composure. She found a comfortable branch on which to sit, there she quietly let the emotions run their course as tears streamed down her cheeks. Never before has she felt so vulnerable, her control over her emotions was ebbing away. Her once strong persona was being replaced by a frayed husk of uncontrolled emotions and fears. Nárwyn did not know how any of this was going to improve once she arrived at Edoras… seeing Éomer would probably make it worse. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her cloak tight around her and watched the sun set over the forest, she hoped wasn't the last time.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Aragorn watch the elf maiden disappear into the forest, he looked at Mithrandir questioningly. Mithrandir waved him over to sit next to him on the rocks near the river.

"It is difficult for her… the man who gave you the horses, Éomer… he is her bonded," Mithrandir explained. Aragorn's eyes widened as he unconsciously he reached for the jewel around his neck. Mithrandir saw the gesture and smiled. "It is similar to the bond you have Arwen but not entirely by choice."

"How is that possible?" asked Aragorn.

"He was dying; she called to Eru to save him and offered her life in exchange. Eru had other plans; they are now bound in life and death. We received word this morning that Éomer was arrested for treason and to be executed. She did not know how old the message was or if we would reach Edoras in time. That is why she is here… to save him and take her place at his side. Éomer is Théoden heir, he will need to lead Rohan against Sauron, I fear Saruman has had control over Théoden's mind too long." Mithrandir pulled out his pipe and started packing it with Pipe-weed. "Keep this too yourself… I tell you this now for I feel I will need your help with this. I do not fully understand the nature of elven bonds or ways of the heart."

"I fear I am not the right person for this task," Aragorn gave Mithrandir a pained look. "Before we left Rivendell I asked her to go to the Undying Lands with her father… we did not part well," he said sadly.

"Arwen will not go, an argument will not break the promise made at Cerin Amroth," chastised Mithrandir.

"I do not wish her to die Gandalf, that is all I can truly give her in the end… death," Aragorn said bitterly. "What advice can I give Lady Nárwyn when I feel distress over my own path?" Mithrandir took a few puffs from his pipe as he studied Aragorn.

"The fact you are in turmoil would be more helpful than if you were not... Your words will not be covered by illusions of wistful happiness but pragmatic truth. I do not know what lies ahead for her in Edoras. I have known Nárwyn since she was a child; she is one of the best I have ever seen with a bow or blades but in matters of the heart… she is lacking. Her father and brothers are partly to blame, they sheltered her; never let her venture too far from their gaze. She is alone now, bonded to a man she hardly knows, forced to leave her home and enter the world of men to fight a war against the greatest evil this land has ever known." Mithrandir sighed, "Too much is asked of her… "

"Éomer did not appear to be anything but an honorable man Gandalf. His men are loyal to him and his causes are noble, I cannot see him purposely harming her gentle heart. I fear the fault of his imprisonment lies with me. It was I who told him of the One Ring and the Fellowship, he pledged to aid our cause. The agents of Saruman in Edoras must have found out and created these falsehoods to stop him," said Aragorn sadly.

"We will ride out at dawn, we should reach Edoras in the late morning of the second day. When we get there I will need to deal Théoden… do not expect a warm welcome. Watch Nárwyn… I have no idea how she is going to react to the people that have harmed Éomer. She is like a bow that has been strung too tight, I fear her visage of calm is a façade, eventually she will break," said Mithrandir. Aragorn nodded and started rummaging through his pack for some lembas bread and dried meat. Legolas and Gimli who have been tending the horses approached the two men sitting near the river.

"Where is the Lady Nárwyn?" asked Legolas as he looked around the area. Aragorn handed them each their share of the bread and meat.

"She is in the forest, she will be back in the morning," commented Mithrandir as he slowly drew a puff from his pipe. Legolas' eyes scanned the tree line, searching for a trace of the elf maiden.

"Perhaps I should go look for her…" Legolas said as he look at the trees.

"Leave the lass be… this is her home she knows it better than you," muttered Gimli as he ate his ration. Legolas gave the dwarf a hard stare and started to walk towards the forest.

"Hold Legolas. Gimli is right, Nárwyn does not need company right now. As I said on the walk here, this will be the first time she is leaving her realm, this is not easy on her," said Mithrandir.

"Then better she speaks to another of her kind who has left their realm as well," protested Legolas. Aragorn and Mithrandir exchanged confused looks.

"She's the horse-masters lad, leave her be," said Gimli. He glanced up at the astonished looks of his companions. "What? Dwarves have exceptional hearing when there is something worth listening to." Legolas sat down quietly next to Mithrandir, he looked distressed.

"I'm sorry… I did not know," he said quietly. Gimli snorted at the dismayed elf and brought out his pipe.

"It is true," Mithrandir confirmed. "They are bonded… which is why we need to get to Edoras as soon as possible. We should finish eating and get some rest, daybreak will be here before we know it"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was early morning, the sun had not yet risen when Nárwyn returned to the camp. Legolas was keeping watch near the river, Nárwyn knelt down by the dying fire and added a few more branches causing the fire to snap and brighten back to life. She retrieved a small copper pot and the small metal stand to position it over the fire. Nárwyn proceeded to gather pouches of rolled oats, nuts and spices from her bag. She was halfway through preparing breakfast before Legolas approached her.

"My Lady," he said with a slight bow. Nárwyn nodded at him and added her canteen of water into the pot before placing it on the stand over the fire. She pulled another bag of dried fruit from her bag and tossed a handful into the pot. Legolas sat down on the ground across the fire from the busy maiden. It upset him to know such a rare beauty was bound to a mortal, too soon she will fade. He watched her intently as she carefully measured out spices and added them to the pot.

"I can assure you my Lord Legolas that I will not sprout a third eye anytime soon," she said as she gave him a level stare before returning her attention back to the meal. Legolas looked away in embarrassment.

"I apologize my Lady," he said sheepishly, relieved to see that Mithrandir was waking up. The old wizard sat up, he looked around confused until his eyes focused on the pot above the fire.

"Ah my dear child what is that delightful scent?" he inquired as he took a seat near the fire.

"Breakfast," she said with a smile as she placed a second pot in the fire for tea. "A little something to sustain us until mid-day, maybe more." Nárwyn stirred the oat mixture as the Gimli and Aragorn found their way to the fire with the rest of the companions.

"We should have picked up the lass after we left Rivendell," commented Gimli as he waited anxiously for the bubbling food to be ready. Nárwyn smirked and poured each a cup of the tea.

"Lháewnis my teacher, made sure every Watcher had the ability to cook, perform basic healing and forage for herbs and food." She looked at Legolas, "I am surprised that other realms did not enforce these skills."

"Our roles in Mirkwood are more specialized my Lady, we rarely travel alone there… it is not possible with the Giant Spiders. Your role as a Watcher sounds similar to a Warden in the realm of Lorien." Said Legolas. Nárwyn nodded and started to spoon the oat mixture into bowls, sprinkling some herbs on top before handing the bowls out. They greedily dug into their bowls of oat, complimenting her on the flavor as they savored each bite. Nárwyn felt a bit embarrassed over the attention but knew that aside from Mithrandir the others had not had a hot meal in days. Legolas and she were having a friendly conversation over the differences between their realms while the others had second helpings of the oats.

"My father often talked about the Lorien elves… it would seem those were the elves he was most familiar with," Nárwyn said as she stirred the contents of her bowl. "Mithrandir, you have been to all four elven realms… which realm is Fangorn most similar?" Mithrandir stroked his beard as he pondered the question.

"It would be Lorien," he said after a few moments. "But the Fangorn elves are much more warlike than the Lorien elves, I would imagine it is because of the mines that this is the case."

"Mines?" Gimli asked.

"Yes Gimli, the Fangorn elves extensively mine the southern Misty Mountains. These mines can be as treacherous as what we saw in Moria," said Mithrandir. The group grew silent for a while, wounds of Moria were still fresh among those that were there.

"My Lady, did you work in these mines?" asked Aragorn, he was intrigued about the Fangorn elves considering how much of his life he had spent living among the other realms.

"Yes, for nearly two hundred years… there are creatures there that are worse than any orc could ever dream of being," she said with a shudder, haunting memories from centuries ago filled her mind.

"A Balrog?" asked Legolas, he couldn't imagine fighting anything like that.

"We've encountered two of those, the last one I assisted in the fight… it nearly killed me. After that my father put me in charge of the Watchers. There are other creatures there… demons… lesser than a Balrog but very cunning and very dangerous. Those are the creatures the Sentries of the mines must battle every day."

"Why bother with the mines if they are so dangerous?" asked Aragorn, he couldn't believe anyone would willingly enter them knowing Balrogs could be there. Nárwyn smiled and pulled up the arm of her dark green shirt, underneath there was a sleeve of the finest golden mithril ever seen. Gimli whistled and moved closer to get a better look.

"I have no words to describe what I am seeing… it is finer than any mithril I have seen that a dwarf has made," said Gimli in awe as he examined the sleeve closer.

"Why is it gold?" asked Legolas as he looked over Gimli's shoulder at the armor.

"My father found that mixing in gold made it even stronger, we have been using it for centuries," she said. "If you would like… once all of this is over with, you can come and visit the mines. I'm sure my father and brother would like to know what the dwarves think of our progress." Gimli just stared at her for a moment, he could not believe elves would extend such a courtesy.

"Lass… this dwarf would be honored," he said humbly.

Nárwyn smiled and started to clean up, she looked to the east and could see the early rays of the sun starting to seep from the horizon, almost time to leave, she thought. Nárwyn was starting to feel more comfortable with her new companions, she could tell Mithrandir trusted them completely… she had no reason not to as well. During the night she had found some peace with her situation, her emotions were still jumbled and her heart was confused but she knew what she needed to do. It was through that resolve of purpose that she found balance. She would free Éomer, that was her purpose… she would only focus on that right now. The matter of the bonding and what it meant would have to wait.

The camp was packed and the two horses were ready. Nárwyn looked at Mithrandir and back at the horses, too many riders she thought.

"Shall I start my run now?" she asked. Although she was not as fast as a horse she could run behind them, she did not require sleep and could run through the night to catch up.

"No of course not! You will ride with Aragorn, I shall be but a moment," said Mithrandir as he walked away from the confines of the forest. He stopped a few paces out and turned to the east and whistled loudly. Nárwyn and her companions just looked at each other and shrugged, as Mithrandir whistled again. After the third whistle Nárwyn thought she heard the faint sound of hooves. She looked at Legolas to see if he heard the same thing, he nodded. A few moments more there was no denying it, there was a horse coming. They walked up to stand beside Mithrandir as the horse neared. It was a brilliant white stallion that was approaching, Nárwyn looked on in awe at the beautiful creature.

"One of the Mearas…" murmured Legolas as the horse finally reached Mithrandir.

"Yes he is… he is their chief," responded Mithrandir. "His name is Shadowfax, he has been my friend for many years," he said affectionately as he scratched the horse's nose. "Let us mount up… Edoras awaits!"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was late in the morning on the second day of the ride to Edoras, Nárwyn was riding behind Aragon listening to him tell her a story about growing up in Rivendell. In the past day she had learned many things about the soft spoken ranger of the north. She was not terribly surprised when he told her of his true heritage, the way his voice carries commands and the way others responded to him hinted he was no mere ranger. Even though she was getting more anxious the closer they came to Edoras, talking to Aragon has help calm her.

"When did you meet Arwen?" she asked. "Was she there when you were a child?"

"Oh no, she was at her grandmothers for eighteen years. I did not meet her until I was twenty… I doubt she would have given me a chance if she knew me as a child… it would have been hard to reconcile the child from the man," he said thoughtfully. "I was a foolish young man… I had no idea what I was asking of her… I wanted her love more than anything, I never thought of what that truly meant," he said wistfully. Nárwyn frowned, she did not expect him to regret his bond.

"You wish you never bonded?" she asked.

"Lady Arwen and I are not bonded in the sense you are with Éomer… if I die by the sword tomorrow, her life will not be forfeit, she has a chance to continue on… to go to the Undying Lands, but she refuses to do so. If by some wild hope we are successful and all of our dreams come true and we can have a family, when I die of old age… she will die as well. I love her too much to wish that fate upon her… yet time and time again she has chosen it," he said sadly.

"But that is her choice is it not?" Nárwyn said. "My impulsive behavior and the Fates have left Éomer and myself with no choices."

"Let me ask you then my lady which is easier? Having no choice and learning to accept and live with that or knowing what will happen and still choosing the same path?" Aragorn's words humbled her, maybe in the end… having no choice was the better option.

"You give me much to think on Lord Aragorn," she said. "I grow more apprehensive the closer we come to Edoras," she admitted. "No matter how much I go over things in my mind, I still have no idea what I am going to say to him."

"It will not be an easy discussion for either of you," commented Aragorn. "But, I optimistic that you two will come to an understanding."

"I wish I shared your confidence..." she muttered.

"You worry too much," chided Aragorn. "Éomer is an honorable man… your fear is misplaced." They cleared a fair sized hill revealing Edoras in the distance. "Look my lady, there lies Edoras!" Nárwyn peered around Aragorn to view the capital city of Rohan, she felt her heart speed up and her stomach tie into knots. She closed her eyes and drew a few leveled breaths.

"Let us make haste then, maybe I can find some peace soon."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Nárwyn kept her cloak up as she followed her companions up the winding dirt path to Golden Hall. Before they approached the gates, Mithrandir suggested that Nárwyn hide her armor and weapons to avoid problems in the city. It was not customary for a woman to bear arms and it would have drawn unwelcomed attention to them. Through the clever use of a spare cloak, Nárwyn managed to cover her gear including her bow to look as nothing more than a woman dressed to avoid the early spring chill.

The city was nearly barren of people, only a few ventured out and those that did met them with suspicious stares and frowns. It bothered her to see these people in such a state of fear, she wondered how long it had been this way. There were a few men posted around, few of them were Rohirrim. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the men, they were not men of Rohan; they were Dunlendings. The dirt and matted hair were gone but she could still see it… the evil these puppets of Saruman possessed seemed to bleed from their very being. No wonder the people were scared with these beasts running the city. Where are Éomer's men? She had hoped they would be able to help her free him. It didn't matter she told herself… they were Dunlending scum. She killed them before and she would do it again. Nárwyn followed close behind Legolas as she started counting her targets.

They reached a set of steps that were etched into the hillside leading up to Meduseld. Mithrandir reached over and grabbed ahold of Legolas' arm and hooked his arm around Aragorn's as well, he pretended he needed their support to climb the stairs. Nárwyn smirked at his ruse, she knew better than to underestimate the Istari. She fell in line with Gimli as Mithrandir slowly and carefully climbed the stairs. Near the top of the stairs Nárwyn scanned the men at the entrance… the familiar green cloaks put her mind somewhat at ease. Here were some of Éomer's men… she scanned their faces until she saw one she recognized… Gamling. He was standing to the right of another large rider near the door, his face was grave as he stood there waiting for them. Mithrandir slowly crested the last step and shuffled over to the guards using his staff for support, his back hunched over and head bowed. If Nárwyn did not see through the illusion she would have thought him a feeble old man, harmless and docile.

"State your business here old man," commanded the guard next to Gamling.

"I am sorry my Lord, my name is Greyhame, I am here to see the King… I have urgent news for him," said Mithrandir in a higher pitched voice.

"Give me the message… I will give it to him," said the guard in an irritated tone.

"My apologies my Lord, my master said the message is for the King only," he said as he bowed his head to the guard. The guard looked at the others, his eyes narrowing when they fell on Legolas.

"Strange company you keep old man," the guard said suspiciously. Mithrandir gave him a shocked look.

"My master only hires the best mercenaries to protect my granddaughter and I go on these trips," he said. The guard grunted and waved Gamling over.

"Take their weapons, they cannot go before the King so heavily armed. Gamling nodded as he approached Aragorn. Aragorn exchanged a look with Mithrandir before finally surrendering his weapons to Gamling. Gimli and Legolas followed suit and handed over their weapons. Nárwyn reached into her pouch at her waist and pulled out a small dagger she used to harvest herbs with. Gamling slowly approached her.

"My Lady, do you have any weapons to surrender?" he asked politely.

"Just one… my small dagger." She slowly placed it into his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. He looked up at her and she reached her other hand up and slightly adjusted her cloak so he could see her face. Gamling looked shocked for a moment, it was quickly replaced by relief. She winked at him and gave him a gentle smile. He nodded and stepped back behind the other guard. Mithrandir nodded and started to walk toward the doors.

"I'm going to need your staff," said the guard.

"You are going to part an old man from his walking stick?" Mithrandir asked incredulously.

"Háma… he is just and old man. I have collected the rest of the weapons, let him have his stick," said Gamling.

"Grima ordered…" Háma started to say but Gamling cut him off.

"Grima says lots of things, unless you intend for us to carry him in?" Gamling asked, his voice carrying a note of exasperation. Háma sighed and shook his head.

"I suppose you are right," he looked at Mithrandir. "Go ahead old man." He waved them through. Mithrandir nodded and proceeded to slowly hobble to the door with Legolas and Aragorn at his side. Nárwyn followed behind staying near Gamling as they entered the large open hall. She quickly noticed the several Dunlending in the shadows along the side walls. The large doors to the hall clanged shut in the background, and the Dunlending closed in behind them. Nárwyn watched as Mithrandir's feeble old man illusion started to fade as he walked down the center of the hall towards the elevated throne where the King of Rohan sat. The King was slouched over in the throne as if sleeping, his clothing was rumpled and stained and his beard and hair were matted and unkempt. Nárwyn looked on in disgust at this man whose weakness had led to this. Next to the King was a man so vile that all of Nárwyn's senses were repelled when her eyes fell on him. His strands of greasy black hair fell across his face as he leaned in close to the king, whispering and petting his arm as if the hollow King was his pet.

"The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late Théoden son of Thengel," said Mithrandir, his voice losing the hollowness he presented to the guards, the commanding tone now returning to his voice. The horrid man seated next to the King leaned over again and whispered into his ear.

"Why should I welcome you Gandalf the Grey?" responded the hunched over King, barely lifting his head to acknowledge Mithrandir. The man patted Théoden's hand as if he was a child that needed encouragement.

"A just question my Lord," he said as he stroked the King's arm. "Late is the hour in which this meddling conjurer chooses to appear." The man left the Kings side and approached Mithrandir. "At the command of the Sorceress of the Golden Wood no doubt, here to bend my Lord to her will. It is as the traitor Éomer confessed… "

"Be silent!" commanded Mithrandir as he glared at Grima. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth worm! I have not passed through fire and death to trade words with Saruman's puppet." He thrust the staff out in front of him at Grima.

"His staff!" Grima shrieked in terror. "I told you to take his staff!" He started to run towards the back of the hall. Nárwyn had been watching the exchange waiting for a chance to strike and now took it. She flung the extra cloak to the floor revealing her weapons and armor. The room erupted in chaos as the Dunlending attacked, Aragorn and Legolas charged the men as they approached Mithrandir who was slowly nearing the throne. Nárwyn drew her swords and quickly dispatched the Dunlending that were blocking her path to Grima. It was a matter of seconds before she was on the man, slamming him into the wall with her blade at his throat.

"Where is he?!" she yelled, her blade slowly cutting into his throat. Grima stared at her, his eyes wide with fear. "Where is Éomer?" she said as she pulled back her blade and grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the ground, smashing his head into the cold stone floor. "Where is he?! Tell me now and I will hasten your death… tell me not and you will learn what it feels like to be separated from your skin. Now where is he?" she growled through clenched teeth. Grima started stuttering, his whole body shook with fear.

"My Lady!" Gamling called as he ran towards her. "I know where he is… this way." He said as he grabbed her elbow to pull her along. Gimli approached her after seeing her pull her sword back to end Grima's life.

"I've got him lass, he might have something useful still to say. Go… find your Horse-master," he said as he kicked Grima in the ribs when the man tried to crawl away. "I would stay still if I were you," he threatened as he stepped on his chest. Nárwyn nodded and raced behind Gamling as they ran for the main doors. Behind her, she could hear Mithrandir calling to the King.

"Théoden son of Thengel! You will hearken me… too long have you sat in the shadows, too long have you let Saruman burrow into your mind." Mithrandir started to glow a bright white light. "Come Théoden… leave the darkness and join the light."

There were two riders at the doors waiting for them as Nárwyn and Gamling worked their way through the crowd that had formed. One was Hérmod, she recalled and the other was a young man she did not know.

"You remember Hérmod, this is Eothain," said Gamling as they reached the men. "They will help us free Lord Éomer."

"Where is he?" asked Nárwyn as they rushed out the doors and down the front steps of Meduseld. She untied her bow and quiver from her back where they were hidden under her cloak as they ran.

"They are keeping him in one of the old storage houses, none of us have been able to get in to see him. It is surrounded by Grima's men, we hope that he is still alive," Hérmod said sadly. "I hope all of this is not in vain."

"He is still alive, I can assure you of that," said Nárwyn.

"How can you know my Lady," asked the young Eothain.

"Because I am not dead… how much farther?" she asked impatiently.

"A few houses away, we need to be careful so those guarding do not suspect anything and harm him. That house is one of the few with a large cellar, they probably have him in there," said Gamling. Nárwyn looked at the houses they were approaching. They were close together with solid thatched roofs with support beams visible through raise of the thatch. She swung her bow around her shoulder and jumped onto a wooden crate next to the house before her.

"I will take care of any guards outside the building, you follow when they are down," she said as she climbed up the wooden siding of the house and pulled herself onto the roof. Nárwyn carefully crossed the first roof and leapt to the next. Once she was on the third houses' roof she could see the one that Gamling talked about. There were two men posted on each side of the door, they were as the others in Meduseld… Dunlending filth. She drew back her bow and sent an arrow to the man on the far side of the door, piercing his throat. Her second arrow was already in flight before the man on the other side of the door realized what had happened to his comrade, it struck just below his ear on the left side dropping him to the ground. Nárwyn quickly jumped down from the roof and charged the door with the riders following close behind her. She flung the door open startling the men that sat at a table inside, arrows were already in flight as they worked to stand from their chairs. Other men appeared from a room in the back, the riders quickly engaged them.

"The door on the left leads to the cellar," called Hérmod as he fought one of the men. Nárwyn nodded and pulled open the door… it led to darkness. She swung her bow over her shoulder and grabbed the small lantern off the table and drew her sword, she started down the stairs leaving Gamling and the others to finish off Grima's men. An awareness started to creep into her mind, she knew he was close… she could feel it. The stairs abruptly ended to a dirt floor, the smell of mildew and rot were overwhelming. She held the lantern high to illuminate the room, it was a vast hole that had been hollowed out in the earth, the rough walls still bearing groves of the picks and shovels that carved them. Her eyes fell on a figure that looked to be kneeling on the ground on the far end of the room.

"Éomer?" she called but there was no response. Her heart filled with dread as she slowly approached the shadowy figure, she saw what looked like a rope hanging from a beam in the ceiling, the closer she came more of the horrible picture came to light. There knelt Éomer in the dirt, he was bent over, his arms bound to a chain that ran to the ceiling, it was the only thing supporting him. His head hung low, she could not see his face, his golden hair was brown and red with blood, and it clung to his face.

"Éomer!" she cried as she ran to him, dropping to her knees and sliding to him. Nárwyn sat the lantern to the side and reached for him, her hand cupping his chin as her other tried to push him up. His face was a bloodied mess, they had severely beaten him… both of his eyes were swollen shut. A sob reached her throat as she lowered his chin and wrapped her arms around him, using all of her strength to try to make him to sit up so she could unhook his wrists from their bindings. When her hands touched his back she jerked them away, they were covered in blood. She grabbed the lantern and crawled behind him…his back was covered in gashes from a whip. Nárwyn screamed in fury as she stood and looked around the room for anything that could help her get him off the chain. She rushed around the chamber, overturning chairs and tables looking for anything that would help.

"My Lady!" called Gamling, she heard him and others coming down the stairs. Nárwyn went back to Éomer and knelt down beside him, she wrapped her arms around his chest and leaned into him, using her body to take the strain off his arms. She didn't even feel the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

"Help me!" she sobbed. The riders rushed forward, their torches bringing more light with them. Their audible gasps of shock and dismay at the condition of their commander filled the room. "Help me get him off the chain!" she yelled at them. Gamling ran her side, his shaky hands holding some keys he had found.

"I found these on one of the men upstairs, Hérmod, help Eothain hold him up so I can try them on the manacles." The men flanked Éomer, they grabbed under his arms and pulled him up, his legs would not support him but they managed to raise him high enough for Gamling to start working on the lock. Nárwyn stood in front with her arms wrapped around his chest, his head resting on her shoulder, she used what strength she had left to support him. It took several minutes before Gamling managed to find the key that would unlock the manacles. With a loud click the key did its job and the manacles released Éomer raw bloodied wrists. Nárwyn pulled back and unhooked her cloak and laid it out on the ground.

"Lay him here, careful of his back," she warned. Eothain and Hérmod carried him to the cloak and gently laid him down on the soft fabric. Nárwyn quickly dropped to her knees and began examining him, she pulled her bag from her shoulder and retrieved two small bottles of nên nestadren. With the help of Gamling she managed to pour the contents of one down Éomer's throat, the other she used to drizzle on some of the worst wounds. So preoccupied with treating his wounds the eerie green glow coming from Caennin on her finger went unnoticed in the torch light.

"Find a litter! We need to get him out of here," ordered Gamling, Eothain quickly ran up the stairs. Nárwyn had finished applying the nên nestadren, and was relieved to see that his breathing was a little stronger. There was nothing more she could do down here in this dank cellar, he needed to be cleaned so she could properly treat his wounds. She was worried that there would be permanent damage… that he would not wake up or not wake up complete. Lháewnis had told her of men she had treated in the war that had woken after losing too much blood or a severe blow to the head with minds of a child… they never recovered themselves. Nárwyn could not bear to see that happen to Éomer, she hoped they were not too late. All she could do now was wait and hope Eothain found a litter quickly. Nárwyn reached down and wove her fingers in his and brought his hand up to her cheek and closed her eyes.

"Éomer… lasta na nin," she said softly as she pressed his hand to her face. "Tol ad, nin hûn… avo bad." She brought his knuckles to her lips and gently kissed them. She watched him closely but there was no change, she tried to not feel despair that her words did not reach him. Nárwyn clutched his hand to her chest and waited for Eothain to return. She did not have to wait long before the sound of several men could be heard coming down the stairs. Nárwyn felt a hand on her shoulder.

"My Lady, let us get him out of here," said Hérmod gently. Nárwyn nodded and reluctantly lowered Éomer's hand back to his side and stood up. Eothain and two other riders carefully lifted Éomer on to the litter and covered him with Nárwyn's cloak. They slowly lifted him off the ground and headed towards the stairs.

"It will be cold outside…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Gamling nodded and removed his cloak and laid it over Éomer, Hérmod did the same. Nárwyn followed behind them, she felt so tired suddenly, not even the sunlight coming in through the opened door helped. Everything became a blur, one moment they were in the cellar, the next they were climbing the steps of Meduseld. Hérmod had stayed close to her, he was talking to her but she did not hear the words, her eyes were focused on the only thing that mattered to her at the moment… Éomer. When they entered the Golden Hall several people came rushing to meet them, she tore her eyes away from Éomer to see Mithrandir and Aragorn across the room, their eyes full of concern as they started to make their way through the crowd. Nárwyn's eyes scanned the other faces… Gimli… Legolas… the King, they were all quickly approaching… all save one. Standing near the dais to the throne was Grima… not in chains, not guarded or otherwise restrained…

A cold rage began to fill Nárwyn, she started to push her way through the crowd, there was only one thought on her mind. Her hand slowly reached back to a dagger she had hidden in her armor. She pushed those who stood between her and her prey out of the way until she stood directly before the worm. There was a look of smugness in his eyes as if he thought she couldn't hurt him as if he was somehow protected from her wrath. So fast were her movements that Grima did not realize what had happened until it was done and he looked down to see bloodied dagger in her hand. He fell to his knees holding his stomach then collapsed on his side, the smugness was gone… only desperate fear remained in his eyes. Nárwyn regarded him with cold distant eyes as she bent to wipe the blood off of her dagger on his cloak. It would not be a quick death, he will linger until he bleeds out… there was no healer that could repair what she had done. She sheathed her dagger and started walking back to Éomer, no one stopped her, their faces were downcast… afraid to meet the eyes of the woman that just mortally wounded a man the King had pardoned only moments before. Hérmod nodded at her when she reached the litter and they proceeded to healer's rooms. Nárwyn could hear Grima's cries for help as she left the hall and felt satisfaction when they continued becoming more desperate and weaker before finally they stopped.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

**Elvish Translation:**

**nên nestadren** - water of healing

"**Éomer… lasta na nin,"** – Éomer… listen to me

"**Tol ad, nin hûn… avo bad."** – Come back, my heart… don't go.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Path of Fate

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings material or benefit financially in any way.

**Authors Notes: **Sorry this update took so long. With the holiday and work my time has been short. Also this chapter was exceptionally difficult to write, emotional dialog is difficult get down on paper… what sounds good in your head ends up being pure cheese on paper I hope you enjoy it! Please review!

**Chapter 4 – The Path of Fate**

The fog made impossible to see much more than a few feet in any direction. Éomer stumbled blindly across the alien landscape, the jagged black rocks and uneven ground made it difficult to hold any pace… not that he knew which way to go. The last thing he remembered was getting beat in that cellar then he woke up here… wherever here was. It was just a desolate landscape from what he could see, the fog made it difficult to see more than a few yard in any direction.

It felt like he had been walking for days and yet there was no destination for him to arrive at, everything looked the same as it did when he started. He had given up trying to call for help, the sound of his words just reflected back to him in the thick grey fog. He sat down to rest even though he was not any more tired than he was earlier. Éomer felt hopelessness starting to set in, there was just no end to this land. The longer he sat the closer the fog seemed to get… closing in around him, encircling him, a part of his mind cried out in warning and he found himself back on his feet. The fog abated slightly when he started moving, he knew if he stayed in one place too long the fog would consume him. He was starting to think that he had died in that cellar and this was some trial he had to complete before he could reach the Halls of Mandos. If that were true then he would never see Nárwyn again and sorrow filled his heart. A part of him just wanted to give up… to sit down and let the fog come but then it would be over… but what if he was wrong? If he gave up then she would be lost to him forever. He steeled himself and pressed on… he was not going to give up.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Hrm… this is strange," said Mithrandir as he pressed his hand to Éomer's forehead. "There is a darkness here, I fear this is more of Saruman's treachery at work."

"What is it? Is this why he will not wake?" asked Nárwyn, her voice was full of worry. It had been two days since they had rescued Éomer from the cellar that Grima's men used to torture him. His wounds had heal already, as quickly as before but she did not call to Eru this time… it must have been something to do with the bond but she was too tired to worry about it. All she cared about now was why he had not awakened yet. The body can live without the mind for only so long… she feared he would never wake up. The very thought of losing him now was unbearable.

"Nárwyn… do you remember when Lháewnis put you to sleep to read your fate?" asked Mithrandir.

"Yes but what does that have to do with this?" she asked curtly. Of course she remember it… that was the day she learned of the bond and everything in her life changed.

"You dreamed… What was it that you dreamed about?" he asked. Nárwyn felt her cheeks start to warm, she looked away. Memories of the afternoon they spent together filled her thoughts, it was a dream she would always remember… she had felt so close to him then. The memories of his kisses made her burn and fill with longing… a longing for something that was slipping through her fingers.

"I dreamed of Éomer," she said tightly. She dared a glance at Mithrandir, he was looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eye. "What does my dream have anything to do with this? We are wasting time Mithrandir!"

"It has everything to do with it my dear!" he said excitedly. "It was a dream but one you both dreamed… together." Nárwyn felt her face burn and her mouth go dry. "The bond is strong, when you are both asleep you will find each other. Do you not see? If you were to sleep now you could reach him, it is something that Saruman would not have anticipated." If this was true, she could go to him now… she could talk to him and convince him to wake up. Nárwyn reached down and caressed his cheek, he was so peaceful, so perfect to her eyes. She bent down and gently kissed his brow, she lingered for a moment before she stood up straight and turned to Mithrandir.

"What do I need to do?" she asked, her voice full of a calm that she did not feel.

"Simply sleep," he said as he gestured to the bed. "I will help you." He noted her hesitation, "the bond might be stronger if there was some contact," he suggested. Nárwyn nodded and nervously climbed into the bed, it was silly to feel this way she chided herself. He was her bonded which made him her husband in the ways of men, she should not feel this much trepidation in just touching him. She scooted close and laid her head upon his shoulder, wrapping her arm tentatively around him. So many feelings and emotions poured through her, the memories of being held in his arm on the ride to Entwash reminded her of this moment. Nárwyn felt an indescribable longing as if she had lost something only to have found it but it was still just out of her reach. She closed her eyes and tightened her hold on him.

"I will not be able to sleep," she said finally, her voice full of emotion. "Can you make me?" she asked.

"Of course," said Mithrandir, he brought his hand up and rested it on her forehead and in a moment, sleep overtook her.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Her senses were all in alarm… this place was not natural. Dreams were still connected to something real, this realm lay outside anything she had experienced before. Nárwyn knelt down and grabbed a handful of the loose gravel, she let it run through her fingers as it fell back to the ground. The texture was wrong she thought, everything was wrong about this place. The black rocks that seemed to grow out of the ground were just as unnatural, they were too smooth, like polished stones. Her brow furrowed as she looked around her at the barren landscape, just nothing as far as the eye could see. Nárwyn felt desperation start to creep into her thoughts, how was she supposed to find him? Where does she even start? Out of frustration she kick a small pile of stones sending them flying in different directions. One of the stones seemed to bounce off of nothing and landed back at her feet. Perplexed, Nárwyn bent over and picked up the stone, it seemed ordinary enough… just like the other stones laying on the ground. She walked over to the area where it seemed to bounce and felt nothing but air. Nárwyn walked back and threw the rock, it bounced off some invisible wall then fell to the ground. When she walked to the spot there was nothing there. She repeated this with several different rocks and it was always the same. An illusion tied with a riddle she thought, how to break it was lost to her.

Nárwyn's frustration was starting to grow, it seemed like hours she toiled, trying to find a way to break the illusion. She wished Castien was here, he was always much better at solving riddles than she was. The stones bounced off a barrier in all four directions but when she walked to the place there was no barrier. Nárwyn felt like she was going mad, there had to be something small, something obvious that she was missing. She started pacing, her mind going over everything since she came to this place. Back and forth she walked but nothing seemed to fit, there was nothing… She looked down at the ground, she had been pacing for several minutes but the ground was still smooth, unblemished by her steps. No footprints! She started manically laughing, the ground was the key and she had missed it completely. Now she had to find a way to cross the area without stepping on the gravel. There were scattered black stones, they were sharp and shaped oddly. A man could not stand on them but an elf could.

Nárwyn jumped up on one of the stones, she could feel it start to cut into the soft sole of her shoe, she knew she would have to be quick. The next grouping of stones was a distance away. She had made farther jumps from oak limbs in Fangorn but she always had momentum behind her. Nárwyn took a deep breath and jumped, she barely cleared the stone, a jagged edge sliced the skin on the side of her ankle, causing her to hiss with pain. She only paused for a moment before leaping to the next grouping of stones. Although she fared much better this time the last jump was farther and her ankle was bleeding badly. Just one more she thought as she balanced herself on the stone closest to the last grouping. Nárwyn squatted and used her thigh muscles to propel her off the stone with every ounce of strength she had left. It was not enough… she knew that it was not enough for her legs to clear the stones, in a split second decision she tucked her head down to flip herself mid-air. She didn't have enough momentum to completely turnover and landed on her back on the sharp stones. Nárwyn cried out in agony as the sharpest part cut into her shoulder tearing the flesh. She barely managed to pull herself off of the stone and into a sitting position, the pain radiated down her arm. With a deep breath she tried to calm herself before she attempted to stand, if she made a mistake and slipped from the stone there was no way she could complete the jumps now. Slowly and carefully she pulled herself to her feet, her shoulder and ankle were throbbing with pain, it was making her lightheaded. Nárwyn took a small step forward and reached out her uninjured arm to touch the area where the stones had bounced. It was soft like a delicate leather and it had some give to it, not a stone wall, it almost felt like a heavy cloth. Nárwyn reached into her pocket and pulled out a sharp stone she had found near one of the crops of black stone, she had intended to use it as a weapon if need be. With a decisive stroke, she slashed at the invisible barrier and was surprised when it tore like paper. She grabbed the edge and ripped it open revealing an entirely different landscape.

The scene beyond the barrier was unlike anything she had seen before, the pure beauty of it was unmatched and breathtaking. The brilliant azure sky was filled with iridescent white clouds that drifted lazily across the heavens. Nárwyn stepped through the tear and landed on soft lush vivid green grass. Everything was alive, she could hear its song as she tentatively walked forward, the birds were singing and the insects buzzing. The faint sound of running water drew her attention and she started walking towards it. The stream was just ahead, several tall willow trees with their vine-like branches dotted its banks and wildflowers covered a vast area near the stream, their vibrant colors were dazzling in the soft afternoon sunlight. This was a place she could be very happy in if the circumstances were different, an elven paradise... Even though everything appeared to be alive and there was a calming breeze, Nárwyn worried that this was another trick or illusion. She didn't let her guard down as she waded into the stream.

The stream was not very deep, it only came up to her knees. Nárwyn didn't care, she walked out into its center and knelt down onto the soft sandy bottom and started splashing water on to her shoulder to rinse off the blood. The cool water seemed to sooth the pain in her ankle and shoulder, leaving behind a fluttering tingle. She cupped her hand and took several drinks of the cool clear water, she felt a calm instantly overtake her and the tension started to leave her sore muscles. In a moment she found herself laying back in the shallow stream enjoying the feel of the cool water as it danced over her body. All of her cares seemed to float away… all save one. Nárwyn jumped up quickly from the water in a panic and ran to the banks. This place… it was trying to make her forget, to forget about him. It was a trap, it had to be she thought. With her determination renewed Nárwyn started to walk back to the tear, after a few steps she noticed there was no pain in her ankle or shoulder. She reached her hand up and felt her shoulder, it was whole again…so was her ankle. What was this place that the water could heal her? Was everything just an illusion, even her wounds? Nárwyn picked up the pace, and started to run to the tear not knowing what she planned to do when she got there.

"Most do not leave my gardens so quickly…" a deep voice said. Nárwyn froze, shivers ran down her spine, she slowly reached for the sharp stone in her pocket. "There will be no need for that… you are our guest," the deep voice said. The stone disappeared from her hand. Nárwyn felt her chest constrict, she had nothing to protect herself with now… she had failed. Her shoulders hung in defeat as she slowly turned around to see her captor. Nárwyn's eyes widened as she looked upon the tallest elf she had ever seen. He was easily a head taller than Éomer with long jet black hair that flowed to his waist. His eyes were a bright blue that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight. Those eyes seemed to hold no malice… only curiosity but she was not going to trust anything here.

"Who are you and what have you done with my bonded?" she asked pointedly. Her patience was waning, she was tired of the games. The man gave her a questioning look.

"You do not know where you are? How is this possible?" he asked. Nárwyn was more confused than before, this person genuinely seemed puzzled by her presence.

"I came here to free my bonded from a dream he could not awaken that a corrupt Istari put him in," she explained. "When I arrived I was in a room with no end, I found a way out of and ended up here… where ever here is," she muttered. The tall elf gave her an appraising look.

"You solved the riddle of the Black Rock Desert? How truly amazing!" he said enthusiastically. "No one has done that in thousands of years. Please tell me how you accomplished it, I am always curious how my illusions are broken." Nárwyn narrowed her eyes as she looked at the elf. His illusion… who was this creature to make such a claim? She would not tell him anything unless he brought her to Éomer. She going to have to make him want to help her…

"It is a rather large flaw…" she said vaguely, enticing the creature.

"Then please tell me so I can correct it, I do not believe I would leave anything too simple and flawed," he said, his expression hardly containing his excitement.

"I would be happy to tell you the flaws I found with your illusion but you still hold my bonded captive. I cannot tell you how to fix a flaw when you could use it against me or my bonded," she said. It was a gamble the she could easily lose but without this beings help, she had little to no chance of finding Éomer in time.

"You are cunning… I can see why my illusion did not hold you. If I free your bonded then you will have to answer any question that I ask of you truthfully," he said.

"As long as you do not use my answers against me and let us be free of this dreamscape when we are done then we have an agreement." The tall elf let out a hearty laugh before beckoning her towards the stream again.

"As you wish my Lady, may I ask your name?" he asked still chuckling.

"Nárwyn and yours?" she asked as they walked back to the stream, keeping a comfortable distance from the tall elf.

"I am Irmo," he said. Nárwyn stopped walking and stared at the tall elf, it had to be lying she thought… it had to.

"Impossible…" she stammered. Nárwyn looked around her again with new eyes. "That would mean these are the Gardens of Lórien," she said in awe as she waved her arms around. The Ainur nodded and smiled at her, he bid her to keep walking. Nárwyn hesitantly started to follow, keeping a respectful distance from the Vala. Never in her dreams did she ever think she would meet one of the Valar. As they neared the stream Nárwyn noticed a man lying on the moss covered bank near the willow trees, his golden hair spread out on the ground. "Éomer!" she cried and ran to his side. Nárwyn cupped his face in her hands. "Éomer please wake up!" she quickly checked his breathing and pulse, he was still alive at least. She shifted and pulled his head into her lap, she did not even feel her tears as they flowed down her cheeks. "What is wrong with him?" she frantically asked the Valar. Irmo frowned and knelt beside Éomer.

"He has been in the desert for a long time." He pulled out a small water skin from around his shoulder and filled it from the stream. "Give him some water," he handed her the skin. "If he does not improve, my wife will awaken soon, she will be able to help." Nárwyn nodded and began drizzling water into his mouth slowly so he would not choke. After the fifth swallow his eye started to flutter open. She sat the water to the side, she slowly caressed his cheek as she waited for him to wake up. It only took moments but it felt like a lifetime before he fully opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Nárwyn?" he asked as if not believe his own eyes. He reached his hand up and touched her cheek before sliding up and cupping the side of her face, his thumb wiping away the tears that continued to flow. Nárwyn closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "I thought I lost you," he murmured as he pulled away to sit up. Nárwyn sprung forward and wrapped her arms around him pulling him into a tight embrace.

"And I you…" she said softly, her voice broke when he wrapped his arm around her. They clung to each other as Irmo looked on with an amused expression on his face.

"I will take my leave now, follow the stream to the south when you are ready, my wife will be happy to entertain guests finally, we haven't had any in a long time," he said as he turned and started walking away. Nárwyn pulled away from Éomer for a moment.

"My Lord Irmo," she called, the Ainur turned, "thank you," she said simply. Irmo smiled and nodded before walking down the banks of the stream. Nárwyn turned back towards Éomer and smiled as she wrapped her arms around him once again and planted a firm kiss on his cheek and hugged him tight again. Nárwyn felt a moment of peace finally after days or turmoil… she let out a contented sigh as she felt his arms tighten around her… it was really him. After a few moments he pulled back from her breaking the contact she had hoped would last longer

"Nárwyn, what is this place? How is it that we are here and who was that man?" She smiled sadly and reached her hand up, gently running her fingers down the side of his face, the tips of her fingers lightly brushing the coarse hairs of his beard. She heard him intake a sharp breath as her fingers traced his jawline, his hand came up quickly and enclosed hers abruptly bringing her out of her revere. "Nárwyn…" he said, his voice low, "Where are we?" he persisted. Nárwyn pulled her hand from his and sat back on the soft moss, she brought her knees up and folded her arms around them. She dreaded this conversation more than anything… she had no idea where to start and did not want to bring up the bond and everything that it meant.

"There is so much I need to tell you… How much do you remember after leaving me at Entwash?" she asked as she watched him look around at the gardens. Might as well start at the beginning she thought.

"I remember everything, meeting Lord Aragorn, returning to Edoras… my uncle signing the proclamation that I was a traitor to Rohan," he spat in anger over his uncle's betrayal. "I remember being dragged into a basement and beat… Grima coming down and taunting me," he frowned as if trying to remember but couldn't. "He found something… something of mine…" His eyes widened when he remembered, he looked at Nárwyn with worry. "He found the notes you sent me, the ones with scouting details… he said he knew about you." He stood up quickly and looked around, "You are in danger Nárwyn…" She reached up and grabbed his hand and shook her head, she tugged on his hand to sit down. "… but Grima knows about you, he plans to lure you out of Fangorn..."

"He's dead Éomer…" she said softly. Éomer looked at her his eyes wide and shook his head.

"How? When?" He looked down at her in confusion.

"Two days ago… I killed him for what he did to you." Éomer slowly lowered himself back down to the ground, his mind was reeling; Grima… dead and by her hand, he was having a hard time believing it. "I gutted him and left the worm to bleed out on the Golden Hall floor… that man was evil, he deserved no less," she said in a cold voice. That was one thing she did not regret and would gladly do it again. Éomer just stared at her, Nárwyn had started to worry that she had done something wrong; she had expected him to at least say something but he did not, instead he did something that shocked her… Éomer started to laugh. His reaction confused her more when he pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her soundly on the forehead.

"My Red Maiden," he whispered into her hair as he held her firmly against his chest, he kissed her again on the brow, this time the kiss was soft and lingered for a moment. She felt herself melt in his arms, her heart was racing. Nárwyn didn't know what to think or say as he held her, it was definitely not the reaction she had expected. He pulled back and smiled at her. "I owe you my life Nárwyn… I wish I could have seen you do it." Nárwyn blushed and looked down. "He was going to marry my sister and take the crown… that was what Saruman had promised him… he nearly succeeded. It brings me great joy to know that he can no longer hurt me or my family."

"Saruman sees you as a threat, he took great lengths to make sure you were dead. If by some means you survived the beatings and public execution… he made sure that you would not awaken. That is how we ended up here in the Gardens of Lorien…" she said as she sat back putting some distance between them so she calm herself, all of these feelings confused her.

"I've never heard of these gardens," muttered Éomer as he looked around again. "Where are they? In the west?" he asked. Nárwyn smiled and stood up, she reached for Éomer's hand and pulled him up next to her.

"You do know about Valinor and the Valar?" she watched his face as he realized what she was eluding to, she smiled as his eyes widened.

"No… that's not possible!" he said shaking his head. "Are we dead? Or is this some kind of dream we are trapped in?"

"No, we are not dead. You were trapped in a dream by Saruman, one of Lord Irmo's illusions. I managed to free myself from the illusion I was trapped in and convinced Lord Irmo to free you. Any elf use to be able to come here through the Path of Dreams but that was stopped centuries ago… Lháewnis told me stories about this place and about Lady Estë his wife, she is a great healer. When we meet up with Lord Irmo I will have to ask him why it was closed," she mused. Nárwyn saw the apprehension in Éomer's face. "We have nothing to fear from the Valar… and even if we did, there is nothing we could do about it, we are in their realm now." She smiled at him and started to pull him in the direction Irmo went. "He said follow the stream south… it will be dusk soon." He let her pull him along but then stopped abruptly causing her to stumble and let go of his hand. Nárwyn looked back at him questioningly, his eyes were guarded… something was wrong. "Éomer? We should go, we don't want to keep them waiting."

"So it was a dream that led us here then?" Nárwyn nodded but kept her eyes from his. "How is it we can share a dream?" he asked. Nárwyn felt her insides twist into knots, she could barely look at him. "You are not telling me everything," he stated as he regarded her with an intense stare, a hardness she was not use to when he looked upon her. Nárwyn frowned and felt fear start to creep into her heart. He knew… but how could he?

"Éomer…" she started but he didn't let her finish.

"No Nárwyn… you've talked around it this whole time, did you think I would not question how it is we are both here in this place," he said angrily, the hurt apparent in his eyes. "I waited to see if you would bring it up but when you pushed to go see the Valar I knew that you had no intentions of talking to me about it. Do you think I do not know what has happened, what it means to both of us? I know the price you paid for my life… I know we are bound, why can you not say it?" Nárwyn turned away from him, her hands clutched at her side. Her fear was slowly being replaced by anger, this was not her choice… her life has been completely turned upside down because of this bond.

"I did not mention it because I did not know how," she said, her voice tight.

"So instead just never tell me? That was your plan?" Éomer scoffed. Nárwyn felt something snap within her as she turned to face him, her eyes blazing.

"My plan? None of this was 'my plan'," she growled. "How was I supposed to tell you? By the way we are bound together for eternity?" He looked at her shocked. "Yes Éomer… eternity… we can never escape each other... not in our dreams and not even in death, that is what being bound means. And another added benefit to being bound… you die… I die." Nárwyn felt her resolve start to slip. "I am mortal now… it cannot be undone. Everything has changed… my life in Fangorn is over… I am forever bound to you, in your world of men… if we try to stay apart we will be driven mad." She sat down hard on the ground and brought her knees to her chest. "So I am sorry I did not immediately tell you…"she trailed off. Nárwyn didn't want to talk about it anymore. She stared at the field of wild flowers twisting in the gentle breeze, she took a few breaths and closed her eyes… desperately trying to find her inner balance. This was not how she planned on telling him but nothing she planned ever worked out anymore, she needed to accept that she had little control now over her life now. She felt Éomer sit down next to her on the grass, Nárwyn made no move to acknowledge him.

"I did not know this bond lasted beyond our deaths… nor did I know the rest," he said quietly. "I am sorry… for everything." Nárwyn took a deep breath and looked at him. She felt horrible for lashing out at him, it was not his fault, he had nothing to apologize for. He was sitting close, mere inches away, his eyes were focused on the ground in front of him… his brow was furrowed and his eyes troubled. Nárwyn let herself look at him, really look at him… she finally saw Éomer the man, not the elusive warrior riding into battle. He was kind, honorable and humble… so much more than what she saw from the trees of Fangorn. She was drawn to him… he had become everything to her in such a short time, she felt like it was happening to fast and at the same moment things were not happening fast enough. He is her bonded, and no matter how much she tried to ignore it or fight it, this was the man who she would spend eternity with. To see him so troubled upset her, it was almost a physical pain to her to see him so burdened… because of her. Nárwyn reached over and took his hand in hers, she wove her fingers through his and held them tight, it was a simple gesture but she wanted him to know that everything was going to be all right. Éomer looked at their joined hands for a moment before his eyes reached hers. Nárwyn could see her own feelings reflected in his eyes… the vulnerability, the fear, and the longing… to have him look at her with such desire… it took her breath away.

Nárwyn didn't know exactly how it happened or who moved first but in an instant she found herself cradled to Éomer's chest, his strong arms wrapped around her holding her tight. Neither said a word, no words were needed… the comfort they felt in each other's arms was beyond words. All of the hard words said earlier were forgotten. Nárwyn reached her hand up and softly stroked his cheek. The growing affection she held for this man confused her, it seemed so natural, so easy. Every time she found herself in his arms, the less she wanted to leave. Nárwyn knew they needed to go south to find the Valar but she did not want to leave… not yet, she wrapped her arms around his chest and nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck. The smell of his skin and its softness were truly intoxicating to her as was Éomer's reaction, she felt his whole body tremble, his arm tightened around her waist while his other hand thread itself in her hair, holding her close. She could feel his heart beating faster and so was hers, a frantic rhythm that seemed to urge her, pull her… it was nearly overwhelming.

"Nárwyn…"his voice was low and rough. "We have to go…" The sound of his voice was enough to enable her to focus again, to resist the urge to stay in his arms. She slowly sat up, it was harder to do than it should have been. Whether it was the bond or the growing attraction she felt for him, Nárwyn found herself wanting to touch him, to just hold his hand. When she was around him she felt safe and content, she was starting to crave that feeling. Nárwyn wished Lháewnis was here, just so she could talk to her about the bond… see if what she was feeling was normal. Éomer's voice drew her out of her scattered thoughts. "Nárwyn let us be off," he beckoned her to him. She nodded and approached him where he stood next to the stream. He smiled softly at her and offered his am. Nárwyn felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she timidly wrapped her arm around his. Nárwyn marveled at how such a small gesture had such an impact on her, she felt almost dizzy as she clutched his arm as he led her down the banks of the stream. She felt some of the uncertainty begin to fade from her heart as they walked together into the darkening shadows of the evening.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The light of small lanterns dangling from the willow trees along the stream bank led them to a small cottage in the center of a grove of oak trees. Nárwyn suddenly felt very homesick as she approached the cottage, it reminded her of the small houses that were scattered throughout the deepest parts of Fangorn. She didn't realize she had slowed down until she felt Éomer lightly tug on her arm.

"Sorry, it just reminds me of home…"she said wistfully. Éomer frowned and reached his other hand up and covered hers that rested on his arm, his warm touch seemed to help and she gave him a grateful smile.

"Hopefully we can go home soon," he said as he guided her up a few moss covered stone steps to the door his hand gently resting against her lower back. After the closeness she experienced with him earlier, Nárwyn was very aware of his light touches and how near he stood to her now. Éomer reached up to knock but before his knuckles touched the door it was pulled open startling them both. A beautiful woman with long blond hair pulled the door open, she stood there with large smile on her face.

"Welcome! We've been expecting you, come in!" she said as she pulled the door open wider and beckoned them in. "I'm Estë, come in don't be shy!" Nárwyn and Éomer exchanged glances before entering the cottage. The inside of the cottage was very rustic with furniture constructed out of various tree limbs and natural materials, it reminded Nárwyn of Lháewnis' house. As a child she always enjoyed going there, for a moment she felt like the little girl that was so enticed by the simple furnishings. Her heart felt heavy with all the thoughts of home, she reached down and grasped Éomer's hand, his fingers tightened around hers and the sad thoughts of home started to slip away. Estë watched the two of them with delight and called to her husband.

"Irmo! Our guests have arrived." She showed them to a divan near the fireplace before taking a seat in one of the chairs across from them. "He'll be just a few moments… it's so nice to have guests. Tell me how do you like our gardens?" Estë asked. Nárwyn did not know what to make of the Ainur, she seemed so happy and excited to see them.

"They are very beautiful my Lady… they remind me of home in Fangorn," answered Nárwyn.

"Just Estë is fine," she said with a smile. "I remember when Fangorn was young… so many years ago. I can see where you find similarities." Irmo entered from the room in the back of the cottage, he was carrying a small tray with glasses and fruit on it. He sat it down on a small table by the chairs and took a seat next to his wife. The Valar shared food and drink with them and exchanged pleasantries, it all seemed rather surreal to Nárwyn. She glanced up at Éomer, he appeared as confused as her with how the Valar were behaving. They were not what either of them expected, they appeared to be exceptionally normal.

"Nárwyn, time to answer my questions regarding the Desert. You said it was something simple but I am having a hard time believing that," said Irmo. Nárwyn nodded sat her glass on the table.

"Yes I gave you my word…it was the gravel," she said. The Ainur gave her a confused look so she proceeded to explain. "I was angry and frustrated… I kicked the gravel and it bounced off the barrier walls… after that was trial and error until I understood how to escape the illusion." Irmo smiled and started to laugh.

"Of course, I didn't even think of that. Perhaps it best if I leave that, no one mentioned using that to escape before," Irmo said. "I do not want the illusion to be impossible.

"There was no way I could see if anything thrown would hit a barrier," said Éomer with a frown. Irmo nodded sadly.

"Yes, Saruman changed the illusion… there was no way to escape. I apologize for that, I did not think any of the Istari used the Path of Dreams anymore nor did I know that Saruman had become an agent of Sauron." Estë reached over and took her husband's hand, sadness apparent on both of their faces.

"This is a great loss," explained Estë. "We knew that it was possible an Istari could be corrupted but we never thought it would happen. Saruman was an old friend… he was once the greatest of the Istari, everything now lies in Gandalf's hands for Radagast does not have the strength," Estë said sadly.

"Does this mean there is little hope?" asked Éomer.

"Oh no there is always hope. There are things at work here that even Sauron's great eye do not see. Your bond for example is one of the many thing set in motion that Sauron will overlook. Although I am concerned on why Eru thought it necessary… your paths were destined to join long ago… a bond complicates things," said Estë as she looked to her husband.

"Yes love, I see it to," said Irmo. "Nárwyn can you tell us what you were thinking when the bond occurred?" Nárwyn glanced nervously at Éomer and then down at her hands.

"I kept thinking about how I could not let him die… how important he was to Rohan, how important he was to me," she could feel his eyes on her but she could not look. "It pained my greatly to even think that he would die, I felt hopeless and I offered Eru the one thing I had left to make this right… but it was not taken."

"Selflessness… but that does not explain the type of bond or its condition," said Irmo.

"What do you mean by its condition?" Éomer asked as he reached over and clasped Nárwyn's hand in his, just to touch each other was calming.

"While it is strong and getting stronger… it is not complete," said Estë. "It is very dangerous for you both to have an incomplete bond"

"I don't understand, Lháewnis said we are bonded in life and in death… she never said anything about dangers or that the bond was incomplete," Nárwyn said, her voice full of worry. She felt dread fill her, she clutched Éomer's hand tighter in hers. It was strange, she had fought the bond but at the slightest suggestion there was a problem with it… she desperately wanted it. Estë looked at her, sad understanding in her eyes.

"Oh child… Lháewnis can only see so much. What she did tell you would be true of a complete bond… but this bond is different, it is from Eru which is rare. The bond is not complete, I do not know why Eru chose to do this… especially now with the perils you both must face."

"Why is it dangerous?" asked Éomer, his brow was creased with worry. Nárwyn dared a glance at him and was immediately frozen in his gaze, she wanted to feel the safety of his arms again but now was not the place.

"An incomplete bond leads to madness," Irmo said quietly, all eyes turned to him. The blood drain from Nárwyn's face, she felt Éomer's hand go limp in hers, she pulled her hand away and stood up. She wrapped her arms around herself and moved away from the others. Madness was something she never considered, death seemed like a blessing.

"Is there no way to make the bond whole?" asked Éomer, his voice was quiet. Nárwyn could feel his eyes on her but she could not face him, she feared what she would see in his eyes.

"A bond is almost a living thing," explained Estë. "It needs to be nurtured and cared for by both of you. A bond grows over your lifetime, though your experiences together. Elves wait many years before bonding so there is a framework there for a bond to grow on, so when elves choose to bond it is complete. In your case, there was little framework for it to grow upon yet so it is not intact."

"But we can build that framework?" pressed Éomer.

"Yes you can… but it takes time, it is not something that can be rushed," said Irmo. Éomer sighed in relief, he stood to go to Nárwyn who was looking out the window on the far side of the room, Irmo reached out and stopped him. "It is not as simple as you are thinking, it could be years… decades even before the bond is complete. Do you have that kind of time with the darkness rising in the east?" Irmo said, his voice low. "If either of you die before the bond is complete, madness will consume you both. You will never find each other in the Halls of Mandos, what is left of the bond will drive you to search forever until the end of time… always longing… always needing, forever alone, forever lost…" The room fell quiet after what Irmo said, Éomer sat back down, his expression dark and the stiffness of his posture reflected his anger. "This is why we fear for you," Irmo said softly. There were no words to be said between them, what could be said after such a statement. Nárwyn felt an overwhelming need to leave, she could no longer keep her emotions at bay. She abruptly turned and left the small cottage for the cool air outside. She did not want to hear any more about bonds or fate… none of it. This was a cruel joke to her anymore, her fate was nothing more than a curse, she was nothing more than a curse… how could she even look at him now knowing their doom. She sat on the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees. A small sob escaped her lips as the unwanted tears started to fall. She angrily wiped them away, tears were not going to solve anything she told herself but they did not stop, nor did the pain she felt. Nárwyn had a fleeting thought earlier after talking to Éomer about the bond that this could work out… that she could be happy, that was gone… shattered into pieces.

Nárwyn heard his steps, a part of her want to get up and leave but to where? She was trapped here until the Valar chose to send them back. His footsteps faltered a short distance away, as if he was unsure if he should approach her. Nárwyn made no move to encourage him, she sat there frozen in the grass, her back to him as she stared across the pond. The steps resumed, the sound getting closer not far away as she had hoped. He paused for a moment then sat down next to her, so close they were touching. Normally she would have drawn comfort from his touch but after what Irmo said no comfort could be found.

"It does not matter," Éomer said finally, his voice was firm, there was no wavering tone or other sign of uncertainty.

"Everything matters," she said bitterly, as she wiped the drying tears from her cheeks.

"Not to me," he said, his voice still unwavering. Nárwyn turned her stricken eyes to him, he was watching her, waiting for her response, he seemed prepared for any argument she could raise.

"How can you say that after what Irmo said? We are cursed…" she said as her tears started to flow again. "I have ruined your life… and mine." Nárwyn tried to turn away when two strong arms encircled her and pulled her hard to his chest. "Éomer… please let me go!" her voice broke. She tried to struggle but he was stronger than her and more determined. After a few moments she stopped struggling as her body shook from heavy sobs that rocked her chest. Éomer held her tight, his hand gently rubbing circles on her back as he slightly rocked her back and forth.

"Shh I've got you… I'm not letting you go Nárwyn!" he said, his voice was rough, he kissed her on the top of her head as he pulled her closer. Her tears were starting to abate some as he continued to comfort her. "Don't give up Nárwyn… please don't give up on us…" he murmured into her hair. "I do not care what the Valar say… that will not be our fate." He said it with such conviction that it broke through her misery.

"How do you know? How could you possibly know?" she asked, her voice shallow and broken. Éomer turned her to face him, he gently gripped the side of her face and rested his forehead on hers.

"Your voice has haunted me ever since that night months ago… I could not get you out of my mind." His fingers gently caressed her cheek, his eyes searching hers. "I thought I was going mad until I saw you when you came to warn me… I knew then the path that my fate would lead me… It is the same path my heart follows…" His gentle caresses caused her to shiver and sigh, Nárwyn had never felt this way before.

"Éomer…" she breathed as his thumb softly brushed across her lower lip. Nárwyn felt her heart quicken its pace as Éomer leaned closer, she began to tremble as his lips brushed across hers. Nárwyn looked at him through hooded eyes as she timidly reached her trembling hand up and gently ran her fingers down his cheek. The intensity of his look was making her feel flushed, she started find it difficult to breath. Éomer slowly leaned in… Nárwyn closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers. At that moment she was lost… lost in his taste, lost to his touch and lost to the passion of his kiss. A whimper escape her lips as ran her hands up his strong chest until she reached his broad shoulders. Éomer deepened the kiss, his lips became more demanding. Nárwyn could barely keep up, she wrapped he arms around his neck and clung to him in the fervor of their kiss, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist pulling her flush against him. A fire ignited within her as the kiss became more frantic, she moaned and tried to pull him closer. Éomer broke the kiss with a groan and pulled away slightly, both were breathless and reeling from what had just happened.

"That is how I know…" he said, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled her into an embrace, the warmth of his body engulfed her, making her feel safe. Nárwyn rested her head on his shoulder, she was still trying to grasp what had just happened. That kiss was unlike anything she has ever experienced, it left her burning and wanting more. So many doubts she had been carrying were gone now, it amazed her that one kiss could provide such clarity. He was truly her bonded… her husband, those words were abstract before, now they were very real to her. Éomer gently caressed her back, the warmth of his hand and the tenderness of touch sent shivers down her spine. She knew this is where she belonged… her body pressed so closely against his, it just felt so right.

"I will not give up," she said softly. "You are my husband… I cannot give up on us." She pulled back and gently stroked his cheek… her eyes met his. "I want this…" The conviction in her voice startled her, before she could say anything else, Éomer pulled her to him for a kiss that took her breath away. All of Éomer's passion and longing manifested in those kisses, they left her dizzy and trembling. Nárwyn had never known such bliss as she did in his arms at this moment. She was quickly losing herself to the fire burning inside her, she was responding to Éomer's kisses with such intensity that she almost missed the sound of someone clearing their throat. She immediately pulled away from Éomer, her eyes quickly locating the origin of the sound. She felt her face burn in embarrassment. Standing next to one of the trees was Irmo, he had knowing grin on his face.

"Perhaps you could explore that aspect of the bond another time," he suggested with a chuckle. The murderous look Éomer gave the Valar only made him laugh. He directed them back to the cottage where Estë awaited them.

"Oh my! Your bond is positively glowing! I trust things are better?" Estë asked with a smirk. Nárwyn face darkened a shade but she didn't shy away, instead she grasped Éomer's hand.

"Yes… things are much better thank you," said Nárwyn as she glanced up at Éomer who smiled down at her, she felt herself shiver when her eyes met his. Her lips still tingled from his kisses just moments ago.

"Good! Now it is time for Éomer to go back," Estë said as she went to her husband's side. Nárwyn felt crippling anxiety at the thought of being without him.

"Éomer going back? Not both of us?" Her hand tightened around his as she waited for the Ainur to explain herself.

"Nárwyn, you were given a great gift… your grandfathers ring Caennin. It is useless if you do not know how to use it properly… Maglor knew its secrets but he never shared them with anyone. We can help you master the ring, it will protect you as it did your grandfather," explained Estë. "We know this will not be easy on either of you but it is necessary for your survival."

"How long will this take?" asked Éomer, he sounded less than enthusiastic about leaving this realm without her. He openly scowled at the Valar, his arm wrapping protectively around Nárwyn's waist.

"As long as it takes," said Irmo. "Time is an illusion here… what may take weeks here in the Gardens will only be hours to you." As much as Nárwyn did not like the idea of being separated from Éomer, she saw the wisdom of it. Not since the initial reaction of Caennin 'getting to know her' had the ring done anything but lie dormant on her finger. If she could use it like her grandfather then it might save her and Éomer from dying before the bond is complete.

"I will do it," she said as she squeezed Éomer's hand, she tried to give him a reassuring smile but it didn't feel very reassuring… The thought of being without him especially now was nearly breaking her resolve.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes mirrored the worry he felt. Nárwyn reached up and stroked his cheek, her fingers gliding over the course hair of his beard.

"It will help us stay alive… I'd be a fool to not do it." Éomer brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. "I will miss you…" she said sadly. "I feel like I keep finding you only to be separated from you again." Éomer pulled her into an embrace, she rested her head on his chest, his arms held her tightly to him.

"It is too soon," he said as he gently kissed her brow. "After this I do not want to be apart for a long time."

"It is time," said Irmo as he made a slashing motion with his arm revealing a shimmering portal of blue light, it was large enough for Éomer to walk through. Éomer hugged her tighter before leaning down, his lips sought hers for one last kiss before he had to leave. It was bittersweet and full of longing, the kiss left her feeling heavy-hearted. He slowly broke the kiss and pulled away, his arms slipping from around her, his warmth was gone leaving her feel chilled and alone.

Éomer stopped at the Valar and bowed to them both. "It was an honor to meet you… and thank you for freeing me from Saruman's prison." Irmo clasped his hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"I am glad to have helped," Irmo said. "This is not goodbye, we will see you soon… the Path of Dreams is open to you… you may visit whenever you wish once Nárwyn's training is done." Estë came up and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Take care of her," she said. "Stay with her as much as possible, it will help keep her focused if she can feel you through the bond." Éomer nodded, he turned and looked at her one last time, his eyes echoing the pain that she was feeling. It felt as if her heart was twisted and squeezed during the time their eyes met. He finally turned to the shimmering portal and stepped inside. The portal closed behind him and he was gone… back to Rohan and the life that awaited her. Nárwyn took several deep breaths to calm herself, she pushed the misery she was feeling deep inside before straightening her shoulders and addressing the Valar.

"When do we start?"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-


	6. Chapter 5 - So Close Yet So Far Away

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings material or benefit financially in any way.

**Authors Notes: This is a long one, but I had a lot of ground to cover. I redid a few things that always bothered me from the books and movies namely how Théoden went from Saruman's zombie to leading everyone into battle in a span of a few days. Also focused on some of the rings abilities and toss a couple more Valar into the mix. I hope you enjoy! Please review and Merry Christmas!**

**Chapter 5 – So close… yet so far away…**

The lingering smell of pipe smoke and the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle were the first things he became aware of as he awoke. Even before he opened his eyes he knew she was there, her soft warm body pressed up against his. His hand sought out the arm across his chest that held him so tightly, his hand came up to gently caress it. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking several times as his eyes focused on the familiar ceiling of his room. Éomer looked down at the tangle of golden red waves and curls that covered his chest. Éomer nuzzled the top of her head breathing in her scent of earth and honeysuckle, his arm wrapped around her holding her tight. She did not move, he knew she wouldn't… not until her training was complete, he hoped it would be soon. He heard the door creek and his head snapped towards the doorway. An old man with white hair and beard entered, he was the same yet different from the old man Éomer remembered from his youth.

"Gandalf?" he asked. The old man smiled and clapped his hands.

"Éomer! You're awake!" Gandalf approached the bed, his brow furrowed when he saw Nárwyn still asleep. He looked at Éomer, worry in his eyes. "What happened?" Éomer shifted and started to sit up, he held Nárwyn close to him until he was sitting then gently laid her back down on the pillow. He made sure she appeared comfortable then covered her with the blanket. After a gentle kiss to her still lips he climbed out of the bed. He motioned for Gandalf to sit in the spare chair.

"I don't even know where to begin," Éomer confessed as he ran his hand through his hair and took a seat at the end of the bed. He looked back at Nárwyn sleeping in his bed, he noted the concerned look on the Istari's face. "She is fine, the Valar are keeping her there so she can learn how to use her ring." Gandalf's eyes went wide with shock and disbelief.

"Valar! Which ones?" he asked incredulously.

"Irmo and Estë… Let me start from the beginning, it is a rather confusing tale." Éomer told Gandalf everything about what happened in Gardens of Lórien. Gandalf listened intently asking only a few questions before the story was done.

"This gives me great hope! The Valar have not involved themselves with those outside Valinor in thousands of years. It is a great honor that they have welcomed you to their garden and have taken on the task of training Nárwyn how to use Caennin. I do not know what this means… Eru bonds you and Irmo and Estë are lending their aid… is it divine providence? I do not know… there are threads of fate being drawn together at this period of time, it is difficult to see the meanings behind the patterns." Éomer nodded and started to retrieve his armor from the rack in the corner of his room.

"One thing I am certain… I will not leave our fate to chance. Everything I do will be to ensure our future… if I have to kill Sauron myself I will," he stated as he pulled his chest piece over his head. Gandalf smiled at the young man, he could see the conviction in Éomer's eyes and hear it in his voice; he had little doubt this man would follow through on his words or at least try. Éomer quickly applied the rest of his armor and retrieved a small leather tie from the table. "Will you stay with her until my sister can watch her?" he asked Gandalf while he tried back his hair. "I do not want her left alone."

"Of course, I can stay a bit longer. Do you plan on talking to your uncle?" asked Gandalf. Éomer sighed and sat back on the edge of the bed.

"I do not look forward to it but I must. I doubt he will be accepting of my bond to Nárwyn considering his plan since I was a boy was to join houses with Gondor." Éomer paused and looked at Gandalf. "How much does he remember about the last four years or even recently?" Gandalf sighed and retrieved his pipe from his robe pocket.

"I am not certain how much he remembers. He had no memory of Théodred's death I can assure you of that, it was honest grief I saw when he was told. If you are asking if he remembers signing the decree that nearly led to your death… I do not know." Gandalf lit his pipe and took a few puffs. "His mind was not his for a long time, there is no way to tell what effect that will have going forward. His decision to pardon Grima weighs heavy on my mind, I do not wish to doubt him… perhaps it is too soon to tell," he said pensively.

"At least we no longer have to worry about Grima," Éomer smiled at his sleeping wife before turning back to Gandalf. "I wish I could have seen her do it." Éomer voice was full of pride, Gandalf chuckled.

"There was nothing to see really, it was over before anyone was really aware it had happened. Nárwyn has always been quick with a blade… just like her mother, she did leave a very distinctive first impression with the nobles and Théoden. They either fear her or love her for what she did, stories are already being told of the Red Maiden's return among the common people."

"You knew her mother?" asked Éomer, he was curious just how similar Nárwyn is to her mother.

"Yes, I knew Raelith well," Gandalf looked at him with a knowing eye. "You want to know if she is like her mother."

"I admit I am curious, I know her mother's story and the legends but the person is lost in the tales."

"They look very similar but Nárwyn's elven blood gives her more delicate features… a greater beauty. Raelith was a hard woman, she had to be to survive those early days. As far as personalities…Raelith had a commanding presence, Nárwyn has this too but is very reserved in how she uses it. The inability to hold ones tongue is a trait they share unfortunately along with a stubbornness that rivals a mule," he smiled. "Nárwyn's brothers have shaped her personality more than her blood… where Raelith lacked in compassion and humor, Nárwyn has it twofold. She will make a better queen for Rohan than Raelith would have… perhaps that is why fate has worked out as it has," pondered Gandalf. Éomer got up and walked to the side of the bed, he stared down at his wife.

"I know I am a lucky man to have fate bring her to me," he said softly as he knelt down next to the bed. "What should I say when others ask why she does not wake?" as he took her hand in his, bringing it to his cheek.

"Yes… they would hardly understand where she is at the moment… Tell them I have made her sleep because she has spent herself to complete exhaustion which is only a mild bending of the truth. The poor girl has been beside herself since we received word of your imprisonment nearly a week ago." Éomer nodded, he leaned down and gently kissed his sleeping wife's lips before rising to leave.

"No point in putting this off any longer…" Éomer sighed. "Thank you Gandalf… for everything. I will send my sister here shortly." He bowed to the Istari and took one last look at Nárwyn before venturing out to find his sister.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Éomer was glad to find that his sister was in her rooms, he was able to avoid most eyes in the short trip there… he did not want to talk to his uncle before Éowyn. Éomer hesitated for a moment before he knocked. The last visit with his sister had not gone well, she was cold and bitter. There was no time to see her before he was seized by Grima's men, he had no idea how she was going to react to his bond with Nárwyn or his worries about their uncle's mind. He needed an ally in his sister, she was the closest family he had left, he wanted her acceptance at least, approval was too much to hope for. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, he was greeted by a stunned Éowyn.

"Éomer! You are well! How can this be? When I saw you but a day ago you were still unconscious and your face…" She reached up and touched his cheek. "You look as if nothing had happened!" Éowyn gave her brother a tight hug. Éomer smiled and pulled back to gave his sister a kiss on the forehead.

"May I come in? I have much to discuss and would prefer to not do it here," he said as he looked up and down the empty hallway. Éowyn pulled open the door wide and grabbed his arm, tugging him inside and closed the door.

"Tell me brother, how is this possible?" Éowyn asked as she looked him over for obvious wounds. She grabbed his hand and pulled up his sleeve to look at his wrist, when she saw him last the skin on his wrists had been torn and scraped off from fighting against the restraints his torturers had used. Éowyn ran her finger over his wrist, not so much as a scar. "How?" she asked in astonishment. Éomer clasped her hands in his and smiled.

"I have so much to tell you… I do not even know where to begin." He led her over to a pair of chairs near the windows and motioned for her to sit. "I trust you have met Nárwyn?" he asked.

"Only briefly, Lord Aragorn asked me to assist her with locating the baths. She killed Grima brother… she knifed him down in the Golden Hall… in front of everyone."

"I know, I wish I could have seen it, I am glad the bastard is dead. Do you know what his plan was sister? What Saruman had promised him?" Éowyn shook her head. "Once I was dead, he planned to marry you and become King of Rohan." A look of horror filled his sister's face.

"Then I owe Lady Nárwyn a debt of gratitude for saving me from that fate… She is the healer you spoke of when we last talked is she not?" Éomer nodded and smiled. "And she not Gandalf, is the reason your wounds suffered by Grima and his men are so miraculously healed?"

"Yes…" he said softly. Éowyn rose from her chair.

"Then I need to thank her, I owe her more than I can ever possibly repay for saving you… not once but twice." She started for the door but Éomer grabbed her hand.

"Not yet… Gandalf made her sleep. She had exhausted herself, Gandalf feared for her health so he did some type of spell… she cannot be awoken. There is more that I need to tell you sister… please sit, this cannot wait." Éowyn frowned and sat back down.

"What is it brother?" she asked.

"Nárwyn is more than a healer to me… she is my bonded… my wife," he said simply. He watched as doubt then shock flooded her features. Her eyes searched his as if to see a jest or a lie but found none. Éomer sat there waiting for her response, the anticipation was unbearable.

"Your wife? How did this happen?" she asked, her voice was not angry, merely confused.

"It is not a simple story," he said softly.

"Many things are clearer to me now… so many things that seemly did not make sense…" she paused to collect her thoughts. "When they took you, Gamling had told me to not give up hope… he said 'She will come.'. I did not understand his words until I saw them carrying you to the healers, the Lady Nárwyn was there. I knew then who Gamling had meant, then her actions had confused me. Her vengeance against Grima, the way the Riders protected her from Uncles guards, how she would not leave your side… everything."

"What do you mean? Why did my men have to protect her?" anger and concern filled his voice. Neither Nárwyn nor Gandalf had mentioned this…

"Uncle had sent guards to arrest her for killing Grima…" Éomer stood up abruptly, his hands clenched in anger, he started to pace. "Gamling, Hérmod and about ten other riders formed a barrier in the hallway… they would not let the guards pass. I thought there would be bloodshed but Gandalf and Lord Aragorn managed to calm everyone. Gandalf took Uncle to his rooms, he said Uncle was ill from what Saruman had done to him." Éowyn placed a calming hand on Éomer's arm. "It is over, Uncle apologized for his rashness and thanked her for what she had done for you." Éomer pulled his arm away and continued to pace. "Really brother it has been resolved, I only mentioned it because I now understand why Nárwyn acted as she did and why your men went against their king… had I known what she was to you… I would have stood up to Uncle as well." Éomer stopped pacing, his anger started to lessen.

"Still… the thought he was going to try an arrest her makes me want to speak with him even less now. If Nárwyn would have been delayed by a day I do not think I would have made it sister." He went back to the chair and sat down. "I worry about the future… Saruman has to be dealt with… even now he amasses more Uruk-hai… it is only a matter of time before we are at war. How can I trust Uncle's judgment?"

"Then you must lead our people if you cannot trust Uncle, the men will follow you. Whatever it was Saruman did to Uncle has weakened him… he is not man he was four years ago. This has aged him many more seasons than he is… I do not think it would take much convincing of him or the other Marshals to let you command," she said. Éomer nodded, Éowyn was right, he would need to lead if he could not trust his Uncle to make sound decisions. They sat there in silence for a few moments but Éomer knew his sister had more on her mind, finally after minutes of anxious silence she spoke. "Are the rumors true Éomer? About Fangorn… is she really an elven princess?" Éomer smiled and nodded. "I thought so, Lord Aragorn would not say for sure but she does not look like other elves that I have seen in Uncles books… none of them had red hair. The people are calling her the daughter of the Red Maiden… I had thought that was a bunch of nonsense until I was in Uncle's study yesterday… the mural… there is a resemblance. Was my eyes deceiving me?" she asked.

"I would like to know where rumor starters get their information," he said dryly.

"So it is not true? I heard from Gamling she is a scout and she fights with two blades like Lord Legolas."

"No, it is true… that is why it disturbs me that Nárwyn's past is so freely discussed, she will not be happy to know it is now common knowledge that her people are in Fangorn and her mother was Raelith," Éomer frowned.

"How is that possible? Raelith was killed on the eve of her wedding to Eorl… five hundred years ago."

"No she was not… she fled on the eve of her wedding. Nárwyn said her mother did not want to marry Eorl. She ran away… her horse fell on the borders of Fangorn and that is where Nárwyn's father found her and took her back to his kingdom there. Raelith died in childbirth…not to orcs. Nárwyn is half-elf, she was immortal that is how it is possible…" he explained. Éowyn looked at him sharply.

"Was immortal?"

"I told you this was not a simple tale sister," Éomer said with a sad smile. "When we last spoke I told you I had been wounded by an Uruk's blade… it was Nárwyn who saved me then. I should have died from that wound… it was fatal. Nárwyn offered her life for mine… Hérmod said she called to Eru to take her life so that I would live…"

"Why would she do that? Were you together before that happened?" Éowyn asked. Éomer shook his head.

"No, we had only met once before, it was dark…I only heard her voice, it was shortly after Théodred had died. I never saw her until that battle where I was injured. She had been helping us with scouting information… she would leave us notes tied to arrows on the Uruk-hai's movements. She said I was too important to Rohan to die… Eru did not take her life, instead our lives are bound… a joining that cannot be undone. It cost her so much… a life with her family, her immortality…" Éomer shook his head and looked down at his hands. "When I think of everything she has sacrificed for me… I do not know how I am ever going to make that up to her." Éomer finally voiced the guilt that had been plaguing him since she healed him the first time.

"Oh brother… you cannot bear the burden of guilt for choices that were made to save your life. Nárwyn would not have made the choice to give her life for yours if she did not care deeply for you… she must have for a long time or she would not have offered her aid either." Éowyn smiled at her brother. "It is just like those stories about the elves Uncle use to read us."

"I do not recall any story like this," Éomer grumbled.

"Then you were not paying attention," scoffed Éowyn. "It would do you good to reread those stories now that you have an elven wife. It might help you understand her better."

"I do not have time to read. You reread them and tell me what I need to know," he grinned. Éowyn smacked his arm hard and laughed.

"Just like when we were children…" she smiled. "I have missed you brother… these past four years have been… difficult."

"I know… I have missed you too. It makes me happy to see you laugh again," he reached over and gave his sisters hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Today is a good day brother, not only have you been restored to us in good health but I have gained a sister too," she grinned. Éomer smiled, he was happy his sister has embraced the situation… this was better than he had dared to hope. "Oh! You need to give this to Nárwyn…" Éowyn walked over to her vanity, she retrieved a small box from the drawer and handed it to her brother. Éomer opened it, lying on a small piece of silk was a gold ring. Éomer picked it up and turned it upright, there was an exquisitely detailed mares head, its eye was a small onyx stone and small row if deep red rubies lined its mane.

"Mother's ring…" he said softly. Éowyn nodded and smiled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I am sure, I have other things of Mothers to remember her by… I want you to do this… it will mean a lot to her… trust me," she said with a smile. Éomer stood and put the ring in his pocket, he would give it to Nárwyn when she awakens.

"I need to go see Uncle now… I cannot say that I look forward to it," he sighed.

"Just try to keep your anger under control brother… he is a victim in this as well… please try to remember that."

"I will try… that is all I can promise. I do have a favor to beg of you Éowyn… can you stay with Nárwyn while I am away? I do not want her left alone… can you do this for me?" Éomer asked.

"Of course brother, let me get my stitching…"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

He had been side-tracked many times on his way to his uncle's study. His presence had shocked many people who thought he was one step from the Hall of Mandos. His men were thrilled to see him up and fully healed… they all sang praises for his wife, it brought joy to his heart that his men spoke so highly of her. In the hallway leading to his uncle's study he found Lord Aragorn and his dwarf companion waiting.

"It is good to see you up my friend," said Aragorn as he clasped Éomer's hand.

"Thank you Lord Aragorn, I am pleased you were able to accompany Lady Nárwyn here." He bowed his head to Gimli, "I see your head is still firmly attached Master Dwarf," he said with a grin.

"Aye Laddie… Dwarves are resilient… and we do not scare easily," said Gimli.

"Unless it's trees?" asked Aragorn with a smile.

"Those trees were angry! The fool elves had no business teaching them to talk," he exclaimed. Aragorn and Éomer both chuckled at the dwarf's response.

"Where is your third companion…? Lord Legolas?" asked Éomer.

"He went to check on Lady Nárwyn… we had not seen her since early this morning, we were wondering how she was fairing," said Aragorn. Éomer frowned, he did not want anyone disturbing his sister or trying to wake Nárwyn. Gimli noted Éomer's displeasure.

"Don't worry Lad… I steered him away from your lady," Gimli said proudly. "Set him straight before we left that damn forest." Éomer's eyebrow shot up in surprise, it never really occurred to him that others may seek Nárwyn's attention… the bond seemed to overshadow any thoughts regarding that.

"Well… thank you Master Gimli from sparing my wife the attentions of an unwanted suitor," he said blandly. Gimli ignored the stern glare from Aragorn.

"I saved the elf from some embarrassment… did not need him following her around like a hound pup."

"Indeed!" said Éomer, he turned to Aragorn. "Nárwyn is asleep, Gandalf made her so, he said she was near exhaustion and worried for her health if she did not rest," he retold the falsity to the two, even though Lord Aragorn may understand the Valar issue it was best few knew the truth. "My sister is with her now."

"Aye… the poor girl has been on the edge since we met up with her and the wizard in the forest. You are a lucky man horse-master… she is as fair as my Lady Galadriel and I hope that I am never at the receiving end of her blades!" Gimli's praise of Nárwyn made him smile.

"Thank you Master Gimli, not a day will go by where I do not thank Eru for the privilege of having her as my wife," replied Éomer with a grin. Éomer glanced down the hallway towards his destination. "I must see my uncle now, I cannot put it off any longer I fear."

"We shall not delay you any longer," said Aragorn. "Come Gimli, let us find Legolas and check on the repairs to our armor." The quickly retreated leaving Éomer to continue down the hall to where his uncle and king awaited.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The two guards posted outside of the study bowed to him as he approached the double doors, he returned a quick nod and knocked on the door.

"Enter," called his uncle's voice. The word enter never sounded so ominous to his ears. With a deep breath he pulled the doors open and stepped inside. His uncle's study was much how he remembered it, it had been a couple years since the last time he was allowed admittance… Grima had managed to keep his uncle hidden away when he was not in the Golden Hall. Anger started to fill him at the thought of Grima, he tried to ignore it, to push it away… he did not want it to interfere with this meeting.

"Éomer?" his uncle said, his voice unsure. Éomer turned to face the man that had signed his death warrant. Théoden rose to his feet slowly from his chair behind a large desk. His uncle didn't look like the sickly old man that was on the throne the last time he saw him but he did not look anything like the robust man of earlier years. His faded grey-blond hair and his dark beard that was lined with grey and white gave him a much older appearance than he was in years. Éowyn was right, he did not look well, a weakness still lingered in his body.

"Uncle…" Éomer said, trying hard to keep his tone even. The air was heavy, neither man moving…so much needed to be said yet no sound could be heard from either. Their eyes locked on each other, both evaluating the other. After what seemed like hours Théoden looked down at his desk, the undeclared duel had come to an end.

"You are fully healed… I am glad." Théoden hesitated and then started to slowly walk around his desk. "Éomer… Gandalf told me what I have done…I do not know what to say to you, an apology seems inadequate," Théoden said softly. He looked up at Éomer, sadness was evident in his eyes. "I was not myself…"

"I am painfully aware that you were 'not yourself'," Éomer stated harshly… he saw Théoden flinch at his words. The way his uncle had said it made his blood boil, as if stating he was not himself excused the four years of torment and pain he put all of them through.

"I have done more than enough to earn your ire… your hatred even." Théoden frowned as he looked down at his hands. "What would you have me say Éomer? I do not remember all of the wrongs I have done or let Grima do on my behalf. I cannot right misdeeds I have no memory of… I do not even know where to begin!" Théoden said as he started to approach him. Éomer tensed and stood straight with his arms folded, his body language caused Théoden to halt his steps. "I do not expect your forgiveness Éomer… I will not even ask for it," he said quietly. "The only thing that I do ask of you is a chance to repair some of the damage I have caused… with you… with Éowyn." Éomer looked at his uncle, the request was made in earnest… but then he remembered what Éowyn had told him about his uncle's orders to arrest Nárwyn. Éomer felt the animosity start to grow towards his uncle, he did not know where to begin to make this situation better.

"That would please Éowyn…" he said tentatively.

"But not you?" asked Théoden, he carried a guarded hopefulness in his eyes.

"No… I'm afraid it is not that simple for me. There is no trust… not anymore. I do not know how to rebuild that or even if it can be." Éomer gave his uncle a hard look. "How do I trust you again when I have nothing but doubts?" asked Éomer. "Where you have no memory… I have too many memories to count. Four years Uncle! Théodred is dead… if it wasn't for Nárwyn I would be too and Éowyn… well she would be alive but trapped in a fate where death would be a blessing. Grima told me himself… his reward for bringing Rohan to its knees was Éowyn hand." The color drained from Théoden's face.

"No…" whispered Théoden.

"Yes Uncle… he almost succeeded, while you sat comatose on the throne," Éomer sneered. "Then, after Gandalf releases you… the first thing you do is pardon that man? Why Uncle? Why did you choose to release a man that held our family… our kingdom captive for four years?" Théoden looked away from him, unable to meet Éomer's intense stare.

"I thought… well, it does not matter what I thought… it was a mistake," said Théoden.

"And trying to arrest the one who corrected your mistake? Éowyn told me what you had tried to do," he said, his anger barely contained. Théoden glared at him.

"If she told that, then she must have told you how your men disobeyed their king," he seethed. "Your men interfered with a command. Your men blocked the hall." Théoden stepped closer his eyes full of anger. "Your men were willing to shed Rohirrim blood to protect…" Éomer cut him off.

"My wife!" he yelled. "You were going to arrest my wife for killing Grima! The man who nearly killed me." Éomer's anger was fully unleashed. "What did you want them to do? Let you arrest her so she could not finish healing me? Lock her up so Grima could deal with her with the same gentle methods he used on me?"

"Wife? I… I did not know… I…" Théoden stammered.

"You did not know…" Éomer scoffed. "You never bothered to find out who Nárwyn was… My men did what they knew was right. We all have… for four years we have done what we thought was right for Rohan even with Grima thwarting our every step. I do not even know how many men lost their lives due to ambushes that were orchestrated by Grima and Saruman. You have no right to be angry at my men… and you had no right to try and arrest my wife for doing what everyone has been too powerless to do."

"I am your king, I cannot have my subjects ignoring my commands," Théoden protested weakly.

"You have been an absent king whose mind was not his own, do you think everyone can easily forget that? Our people are not fools, they know the power Grima had over you…they lived in fear for their lives and that of their families. The Uruk-hai run unchecked through our lands. Grimbold has pulled his men back to his lands… Erkenbrand the same. Ever since the defeat at the Fords it has been just my men and I trying to contain the threat and we are too few." Théoden looked down at the floor, turned and went back to his desk. He sat down and put his head in his hands. Éomer felt his anger starting to drain from him… he had said his peace. It brought him no joy to tear his uncle down like that but it needed to be said. It was several minutes before Théoden spoke.

"How am I to lead our people when there is so little faith in my command?" he said quietly. Éomer sighed and approached the desk, taking a seat in one of the chairs next to it. Even though his trust in his uncle had been shattered, there was still a chance for some redemption… a way he can regain the trust of his people.

"My words were harsh but not without reason… you needed to be made aware of how you are perceived… there is a remedy you can begin to administer. You can start by making no major decisions without counsel, it will reassure many minds… including my own," said Éomer.

"That will make me appear weak," argued Théoden. Éomer shook his head. "A king with no authority is no king at all," protested Théoden.

"Considering everything that has happen it will make you appear prudent. Bringing Ekenbrand and Grimbold back into the fold will show solidarity we have not had in months. Rohan has been divided, by unifying it you will regain much lost trust in the process," Éomer said. Théoden gave him a critical look for a moment then a small smile formed on his lips.

"You have changed Éomer…" appraised Théoden.

"I have grown up Uncle… I had to these past few years." Théoden nodded and sighed.

"I will do as you have asked, it is sound counsel. In the morning I will send riders to both Grimbold and Erkenbrand, the sooner we can unify the sooner we can deal with Isengard," Théoden said as he drew parchment out of his desk. Éomer felt the remaining tension start to leave him as he watched his uncle write a letter to Grimbold. After the first letter was complete Théoden put the quill down and leaned back in his chair; his eyes studying Éomer. It was obvious there was something on his mind.

"I have a few questions of a personal nature if you will permit me?" he asked. Éomer sighed as he felt the tension return from earlier… he knew what the personal questions would entail.

"You mean to ask me about Nárwyn?" Éomer said wearily. Théoden nodded he took a moment to organize his thoughts.

"The only detail you have offered is that she is your wife, I am curious how this happened in the middle of everything that has been going on?" his questioned was laced with judgment. "I have learned from Gandalf she is the daughter of an elven king that resides in Fangorn Forest that no one knew about, little other information has been told to me. While it came as quite a shock to learn we have an entire elven realm on our borders that apparently has been there for over a thousand years… it was more of a shock to learn my nephew and heir has joined houses with them." Éomer caught the tone of disapproval in his uncle's voice.

"Unconventionally… but yes our houses are now joined," Éomer said his voice tight. "I fail to see why what most would consider a politically sound marriage would earn your disapproval Uncle." Théoden gave him confrontational scowl.

"It was not for you to decide," he retorted. "There are many things that need to be negotiated… agreements needed to be finalized. Please tell me when you met with her father that this took place?" Théoden's eyes narrowed when he saw Éomer uncomfortably glance down at the floor. "The Lady Nárwyn is a rare beauty but do not tell me you agreed to any contract just to have her."

"I have yet to meet her father," Éomer said as he met his uncle's gaze.

"What do you mean you have not yet met her father? You eloped? Does her father even know?" asked Théoden incredulously. "I cannot believe you would do something so foolish."

"It is not something we planned to happen," Éomer stated. "We were…" Théoden cut him off.

"Of all the reckless and asinine things you could have done… Where is your head boy? You are my heir!" Théoden yelled. Éomer patience was gone at this juncture in the conversation… his uncle was making assumptions and would not give him a moment to explain.

"We are bonded!" Éomer said through clenched teeth. "You spent time with the elves of Lothlórien… I know you are familiar with what that means." Éomer watched the color drain from his uncle's face as he sat back in his chair. "It was not something we willingly submitted to… our path was chosen for us."

"By who? Who has this authority over you that I and her father do not?" asked Théoden.

"Eru…" Théoden's eyes went wide and he just stared at his nephew. Éomer rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Are you willing to listen now?" He watched his uncle slowly nod. "A few weeks ago we were on patrol near Fangorn, our numbers were split, and several men were in a village nearby while a few of us remained near the forest," explained Éomer. "Nárwyn tracked a party of Uruk-hai and was able to give us some warning… she fought with us and we managed to kill all the Uruks but I was wounded. It was moral Uncle… I should have died in the night… normal healing was not working, Nárwyn offered her life to Eru to save me. Obviously it was not taken and I lived… when she went back to her people the next day the elves could sense the bond. This bond has cost her greatly… her immortality… a life with her family, we cannot be separated… if we are apart too long madness is our reward." Éomer pinched his brow trying to abate the headache that was lurking behind his eyes. "Now that you understand the circumstances behind our bond… I hope to eventually have your support. If that is not possible and you wish to make Éowyn your heir I will not contest it." Théoden looked at him sharply.

"Don't be foolish, this changes nothing… you are still my heir and still the Third Marshal." Théoden stood up and started pacing next to his desk. "It will be difficult for the common people to understand your relationship without a formal ceremony. An elven queen might be also difficult to accept."

"They might be more accepting when they learn who her mother was," Éomer said. Théoden gave him a questioning look. "Nárwyn is half human… her mother was Raelith." Théoden turned sharply and looked at the mural on the wall of his study. He stared at it for a moment before turning his amazed eyes Éomer's way.

"My eyes see a resemblance that is not possible. How can her mother be Raelith the Red Maiden?" Théoden unsteadily walked back to his chair and slowly sat down. He quietly listened as Éomer told him the story of Raelith's true fate. When he was done Théoden just shook his head. "No simple explanation can be found for this… there is divine involvement here that is beyond our minds to understand. Once the people learn of her lineage, they will either embrace her or scorn her. The common people can be fickle and to learn that Raelith fled may cause discord. I honestly do not know how they will react to her."

"Nárwyn has a gentle heart, she is a great healer and a fierce warrior… she has already won the respect of my men… I have little doubt she will fail to win the hearts of our people," Éomer said confidently. "Will you make an announcement?" Théoden sighed and nodded.

"I suppose I should… before the rumors get out of control. We will need to introduce her to the people, we should not delay that."

"When she awakens we will plan something." Upon seeing his uncles questioning look he told him about her exhaustion and Gandalf putting her to sleep to heal her.

"It has been an exhausting few days for everyone," said Théoden as he looked down at the parchment on his desk. "I need to finish the letters and I grow weary." Éomer stood and bowed.

"I will take my leave Uncle," he said as he turned to leave his uncle's study.

"Éomer," called Théoden. Éomer turned to face his uncle as his hand grasped the door handle. "Thank you," he said simply. Éomer nodded and left the study. While there was still a lack of trust in his uncles abilities, Éomer felt that the worst part was over. He quickly walked down the hall towards the entrance, he wanted to check on Firefoot and get an update from his men and get back to his wife as quickly as possible.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

When Éomer finally arrived back at his room he found Éowyn curled up in the chair next to his bed working on her needlepoint. She smiled at him and began to pack up her belongings.

"How did the meeting with Uncle go?" she asked as she placed her string in a small bag. Éomer barely heard her as he walked to the bed side, he could not take his eyes off of Nárwyn. She was sleeping peacefully, her head on the pillow and her long red-gold curls cascading down the front of the blanket. Éomer felt his chest tighten as he gazed on his wife… "Brother?" Éowyn said firmly.

"It went as well as was expected… we are not at odds," he said, his eyes still focused on Nárwyn. Éowyn smirked at her brother's distraction.

"That is good… progress anyway," Éowyn said as she swung her bag over her shoulder. "Everything was fine here while you were gone. I had some of my ladies in waiting assist me in bathing her and putting more suitable sleepwear on her. She did not awaken… Gandalf came to check on her a couple of times and said she may wake tomorrow." Éowyn pointed to the full tub behind the screen in the corner of the room. "I had a bath drawn for you a while ago… the coals are keeping it warm but I suggest you use it soon."

"Thank you sister," Éomer managed to pull his gaze from his wife and smiled at his sister. "Are you available in the morning? I have to meet with Uncle and his advisors to update them on the Uruk-hai." Éowyn nodded and smiled.

"Of course brother… I will see you after breakfast." She pulled the door open and quietly left. Éomer sighed in relief, the day had been long and draining. He knelt down next to the bed and took Nárwyn's hand in his, he leaned over and gently kissed her brow. He sighed and sat back, this was torture to have her so close but her mind so far away. Éomer hoped Gandalf was right and she would awaken tomorrow. He brought her hand up to his lips and brushed kisses across her knuckles before standing, tucking her arm under the covers before he started working on the buckles to his armor. Éomer was thankful his sister was helping him and was thoughtful enough to have a bath ready for him.

The bath had drained what energy he had left, he pulled on a pair of linen pants and slid into the bed next to Nárwyn. Brushing her hair out of the way, he gently wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to his chest. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her earthy honeysuckle scent before softly kissing her neck. Éomer sighed contently as he closed his eyes, sleep came quickly that night.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Her eyes scanned the underbrush of the forest looking for any sign of an impending attack. These trials of Irmo have gotten more intense of late, he was pushing her to the limits of her and Caennin's abilities. Learning to use the powers of the ring on her finger has been a lesson in patience beyond any she had experience in her life so far. In a way it was almost like the ring had its own personality, it would help her when it chose to and stubbornly ignore her when she called to it for aid. Several times she had grown so frustrated she tried to pull the ring from her finger only to be denied as it seemed to tighten refusing to budge. The ring had been temperamental only obeying her call part of the time… but as the weeks have passed she has learned to coax the ring to her will.

Irmo has showed an infinite amount of patience with her, taking time to help her master the smallest skill. The rings powers were mostly defensive, she could deflect arrows and blades or shield herself entirely but that was more draining. Every use of the ring drained energy from her, she had to be careful not to overdo it or she would become useless in battle very quickly. The ring could be used offensively as well, the power that deflect objects could easily be used to crush them; targeted use could snap bones or push an enemy back. These types of actions were even more draining than the defensive powers. It was learning how to balance the abilities of the ring and her own fighting skills that has been the biggest challenge. Nárwyn had crafted and refined a whole new fighting style for herself based on the rings powers. She could not wait to get back and show her brothers, especially Castien… there was no way he could get the upper hand in a dual again.

Another aspect of the ring that Irmo had suspected was an ability to aid healing. They had found this out conclusively when Nárwyn had been injured in one of the trials. Irmo had gone to wake Estë, by the time they returned the wound was nearly healed… the area covered with a faint green glow. After that incident, Nárwyn and Estë had started to use it during their healing training. Estë was convinced that the ring had something to do with how rapidly Éomer healed after she freed him from Grima's men. The rings abilities seemed to center on keeping its wearer alive and healthy, this now included keeping Éomer alive because of the bond. Nárwyn was amazed the rings abilities were so far reaching, Estë was unfazed by it. She said there are many trinkets and items scattered throughout Middle Earth that have tremendous power, Caennin was just one of many.

A faint sound of a leaf rubbing against another was her only warning before a dart whistled though the air towards her eye. Without even thinking about it she summoned the power of Caennin and brushed the dart away sending it spinning to the ground to the left of her. The next string of attacks came very quickly as darts and arrows from multiple directions flew towards her. Nárwyn was keenly aware as each missile approached, her body was already reacting to dodge or block the seemingly endless barrage. A new sound registered to her ears, it was the sound of many footsteps approaching her. She twisted and bent like a willow branch in the wind when a sword sliced through the air above her narrowly missing her head. Nárwyn did not have time to count the orcs that rushed in, she dealt with them as they came at her. Irmo was making this trial exceptional difficult she thought as she grabbed the orc in front of her using it as a shield, letting it take the sword blow meant for her. Nárwyn used the ring to throw an attacking orc back before kicking the one to her right in the knee bring it down to the ground so she could slash its throat with her dagger. To add to the difficulty today, Irmo only let her carry a single dagger into the woods for this trial. She wondered if at this rate if she would be sent into these trials in nothing but her skin before these tests were done.

It was a seemingly never ending stream of orcs pouring from the forest at her, they were surrounding her, the arrows and darts had stopped only to be replaced by more orcs and some of their larger cousins the Uruk-hai. Nárwyn did not want to fail this challenge, she had already been here for months and wanted to home… to Éomer. She spun around, deflecting blade after blade, there was only one thing she could think of doing but it would drain her, it was her one chance. Nárwyn called on Caennin to shield her, a faint green glow surrounded her, protecting her. The orc blades bounced off the shield sending a spray of green sparks in their wake. They surrounded her in a tight circle, hitting the shield from all sides, the barrier would only hold for a short time longer. Drawing all of her strength and will into Caennin she pushed the power of the ring out with such force that the faint green shield around her exploded consuming and breaking the orcs that were around her. She heard tree limbs snapping and what sounded like thunder all around her, she did not look, her eyes were tightly shut as she stood bent-over holding Caennin tight to her chest. The sounds stopped, followed by a deafening silence, Nárwyn stood still waiting for a blow that never came… after a few moments she opened her eyes slowly to utter destruction.

All of orcs lay scattered and broken around her, nothing moved… nothing lived. Everything had been knocked back away from her several paces. Nárwyn stood there stunned, the forest around them for a sizable distance had been destroyed, trees lay on their side, branches broken and twisted covered the ground. She felt herself start to tremble then shake, her knees gave out and she fell to the ground. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her, she had used too much energy, her whole body felt weak. She stayed there on her hands and knees gasping for breath for several minutes. Nárwyn felt some of her strength returning but it would take a few days to recover from the energy lost.

"Well done," an all too familiar voice said.

"Did I pass?" Nárwyn asked in between breaths. She turned and sat down as she faced Irmo, he was looking down at her with a large smile on his face.

"You passed… spectacularly I might add," he said reaching a hand down for her to pull herself up. Irmo looked around at the damage as Nárwyn dusted off her leggings. "I wouldn't recommend doing this if you have any allies nearby… well, not any you intend on seeing live." He grinned and waved his arm, all the orcs were gone and the forest was once again whole. "Come," he beckoned. "Estë has awoken early… we have a guest tonight." Nárwyn's heart sped up and she quickly followed… a guest… she hoped it was Éomer. Her heart longed to see him again… to just touch him, their separation had been too long. Time ran slowly here, what has been months to her were but mere hours or days to him. It has been torture for her to be away from him for so long. It did not take her long to catch up to Irmo, he smiled gently at her.

"It is not Éomer who is our guest little one, I am sorry," he said sadly. Nárwyn sighed but nodded, she should not have gotten her hopes up she thought.

"I hate it when you do that," she said her tone sullen. Irmo smirked at her as they walked through the woods.

"I am the Valar of desires am I not?" he said with a grin. "I know your hearts greatest desire, it radiates from you as bright as the sun." Nárwyn glared at him causing him to laugh. "Do not fear dear Nárwyn, we will not keep you here forever… only but a day has passed in Rohan. Your life there will resume shortly," he assured her.

"It is just difficult being away from him for so long," her voice pained. "Every day it is worse than the last." Irmo stopped and looked down at her.

"Would it burden your heart less to gaze upon him?" he asked. Nárwyn nodded. "I can show you Éomer as he is now at this moment if it will please you."

"The only thing that would please me more would be to return to him," she said, her voice hopeful. Irmo reached his hand out and hovering above it an image started to form. Nárwyn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. The imaged showed Éomer asleep in his bed with his arm wrapped around her body holding her close. He was sleeping so peaceful, so contented with his face nestled in her hair at the base of her neck. Nárwyn reflexively reached back and touched her neck but there was nothing there. For a brief moment she felt a pang of jealousy that she could not experience the sensations her body must be feeling at this moment. Unwanted tears started to fill her eyes as she looked upon the image of something she has long wished for but never had… It was almost as if she was watching him laying with another woman that happened to share her face. She quickly brushed those unsettling thoughts away as she wiped away her tears and gave Irmo a sad smile.

"Thank you," she said softly, she looked away trying to hide the pain in her eyes. Irmo frowned and the image disappeared.

"I had hoped that would make you happy but I fear that it has just made things much worse," he said with much regret. "Come little one, Estë is waiting for us."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Estë was in the kitchen of the small cottage scurrying about making dinner. She looked up and smiled at her husband as she placed a dish on the table. Estë smiled drained from her face when she saw the sad defeated expression of their ward. She looked sharply at her husband.

"What happened?" she asked, Estë started to approach the two but Irmo held up his hand.

"Nárwyn, you should go to your cottage and get cleaned up… our guest will be arriving soon," he said. The elf maiden merely nodded and left out the side door to the small cottage Irmo had made for her. Estë folded her arms and gave her husband a pointed look.

"Well?" she said sharply. Irmo sighed and sat down at the table. "Did she not pass the latest trial?" Irmo shook his head.

"No, she passed… she did something unexpected, different than I expected. She has really learned to control the Caennin quite well," he said proudly. He had taken Nárwyn under his wing, she had become like a daughter to him… one he and Estë could never have. His face fell when he remembered the pain and sadness in her face after he showed her the image of her bonded. "I fear I have made a grave error." He looked up at his wife. "I showed her an image of Éomer as he is now." Estë glared at him, her frown deepening. "It was foolish of me, I know that now… you do not need to scold me. I just wanted to make her happy but it had quite the opposite effect." Irmo looked down at his hands. "I watched her light dim greatly, for a moment I thought her despair was enough to cause her to start fading." Estë eyes widened and she took a seat next to her husband.

"What was the image of?" she asked, her heart was constricting in worry.

"It was of them sleeping, Éomer was holding her body in his sleep… I did not know it would cause her so much pain. I regret ever doing it," he said as he clutched his wife's hands. "I feel she will not be able to overcome this… she will need to go back sooner than we expected." Estë shook her head, he could see her lower lip start to quiver.

"No… it is too soon… maybe after another week or month she will feel better," she said desperately. "You could slow time down more here…"

"Estë stop… please. You know I could stop time completely but it will not help… we could keep her for a thousand years and it will never be enough. She has to go back…" Estë pulled her hands from her husbands and stood up walked away from him. Irmo could hear the quiet sobs she tried to hide. He sighed and approached his wife, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to his chest. "I know love… she is like a daughter to me too." He kissed the back of her head and hugged her tighter. "She will come back to visit with us… and hopefully after the fates have been decided in our favor Nárwyn and Éomer will come here to live." He turned her around to face him, he gently wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I will make it so the Path of Dreams is open to them so they will visit often," he bent down and softly kissed her lips. "Does that help my love?" he asked. Estë nodded and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

"I never expected to become this attached to her," she said quietly. "A shadow will cover my heart when she leaves."

"I know… mine as well. Once she goes back, I will balance the flow of time here so it will not feel so long between her dreams. We can observe the events of her life more closely that way," he said as he stroked Estë's hair.

"Do you believe her ready with her training? Has she mastered the Caennin enough?" Estë asked. Irmo nodded.

"She was ready weeks ago, I just could not bring myself to send her back, she seemed happy here… but now it is best that she go back." Irmo gently kissed Estë forehead as he pulled her to him tighter. "I will tell her she goes back in three days. That will give us time to make sure everything is in order before she returns." Estë nodded sadly and pulled away from her husband. Irmo watched his wife school her features to hide the grief and sadness she was feeling.

"I need to finish dinner," she said wiping away the rest of her tears. "Do you have any idea what Námo wants? It is most unusual for your brother to visit us." Irmo sighed and sat back down.

"I imagine it has something to do with Nárwyn, you know how he gets… always wanting to run everything… telling the rest of us how we should do things." Irmo stood up, he had a faraway look in his eyes.

"He's here?" asked Estë after she noticed her husband's expression. Irmo nodded.

"He has entered the Gardens… and he is not alone… he brought Vairë with him!" Irmo said, his eyes wide. Estë sat her plate down, her expression just as shocked as her husbands.

"Well, this is unexpected," she said. "I cannot remember the last time Vairë left the Halls or her weaving. I do not recall her ever coming here to the Gardens." Irmo began to pace, worry set into his features. He turned to Estë, his eyes were frantic. Estë had never seen her husband so upset before.

"What if they try to interfere with Nárwyn? What if…" Estë brought her fingers up to his lips to silence him.

"Shh husband, do not do this. We cannot worry this too much. Every Valar has the potential to interfere with the events of Middle Earth, especially when the war begins… you know this." She leaned up and ran her fingers across his worried brow. "Have faith… Vairë's weaving brought her to us… perhaps she can lend us some insight into the patterns." Irmo nodded and looked to the door, a moment later there was a knock. Estë pulled away and primed herself and nodded. Irmo walked to the door and opened it. Waiting on the other side stood a man that was almost the mirror image of himself. Námo was as tall as Irmo, his hair the same onyx black, but his skin was much darker. His eyes were a deep green and his face shared none of the friendliness that Irmo's did. Námo features were rather stern, very authoritarian.

"Hello brother," said Námo as he grasped Irmo's outstretched hand. Irmo smiled warmly at his brother and returned the greeting. Behind Námo a small petite woman appeared, her long silver-blond hair nearly reached the ground. She scampered around her husband into the cottage, she nodded at Irmo and smiled at Estë.

"Vairë! It has been a long time," Estë said as she pulled the smaller woman into an embrace. Vairë smiled brightly, her excitement was radiating off of her. She was so unlike her husband, where he was hard and immobile she was soft and approachable. Her eyes were a bright blue and full of happiness.

"It is good to see you Estë, I keep telling Námo we should visit but we get so little time," Vairë said as she went back to her husband's side and took his hand. The stony faced Valar looked down at his little wife and if Estë would not have been watching closely she would of missed the slight softening of his hard features. Estë had always suspected that her husband's brother was not always as unyielding as he appeared. Vairë looked around the cottage and frowned slightly. "Where is she?" she asked as she looked up at Irmo.

"Nárwyn?" asked Irmo. Vairë gave him an exasperated look, as if he just asked the most foolish question.

"Of course Nárwyn! I would very much like to meet her. She has kept me very busy for a long time," she said. Irmo and Estë looked at each other and back at the couple standing in their home. It was not Námo who wished for this visit… it was his wife.

"Yes please… where is this elf maiden? I have not gotten a moment of peace since Vairë found out she was here in the Garden," said Námo, he gave them both a tired look. Estë laughed and smiled at her husband, relief filled them both.

"She is getting ready and will be here shortly. Come Vairë help me finish dinner."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Nárwyn sat on the edge of her bed in the small cottage Irmo had given her to stay in. She straightened the dark green gown that Estë had laid out for her for the fourth time. Normally she would have been eager to meet any guests that were vising the Valar but not today. The image of Éomer holding her as they slept filled her heart with such longing that it physically hurt. It was one thing she had always longed to experience, ever since that horse ride to Entwash. She had slept in his arms then and it was a memory of safety and comfort that she cherished. Now one of the things she most desired was happening yet she was not there to participate. She sighed and grabbed her brush that was sitting next to her on the bed and started to pull her hair up. Nárwyn did not want to be late, she did not want to disappoint Estë. In many ways Estë reminded her of Lháewnis, these two women treated her like a daughter and she was grateful for that. Since she had been here Estë had taught her so much more about healing than she thought possible… even more than Lháewnis knew. She wanted to share her new knowledge with her old mentor but going back to Fangorn was an even more distant hope than returning to Edoras. Nárwyn finished positioning her combs and stood up to put the brush back on her small table. She took a deep breath and tried to push her feelings of longing and loneliness deep inside her. Satisfied with her appearance, Nárwyn left the small cottage next to the pond to spend the evening with the Valar and their guest.

Nárwyn quietly opened the side door and let herself in. She turned and nearly ran into a man that she thought was Irmo until he turned around. With a startled gasp Nárwyn jumped back, the man before her was definitely not Irmo but the resemblance was uncanny. The man stared down at her with hard eyes, this stranger made her feel intimidated… he radiated authority and power that made her feel uneasy.

"My apologies sir," she said quickly, she kept her eyes respectfully lowered. This man must be related to Irmo… another Valar. Námo reached down and with his finger raised her chin. He peered deeply into her eyes, Nárwyn had never felt this self-conscious and nervous before.

"So… you are the one all of the fuss has been about," he said in a deep voice, his eyes studying her.

"I assure you my lord that I am not worthy of being fussed about," she said meekly. Námo snorted and dropped his hand.

"We shall see," he said cryptically. "Vairë your elf is here," he called. There was the sound of commotion from the kitchen and then the sound of tiny feet rushing towards them. A small woman pushed her way around the large Valar standing in front of her. She looked at Nárwyn and smiled, she threw her arms around her and gave her a tight hug. Nárwyn stood there frozen with shock as this strange woman embraced her. Nárwyn looked towards the kitchen and found Estë and Irmo standing there smiling. Nárwyn awkwardly returned the embrace, patting the woman on the back. The woman pulled back and just smiled at her.

"I cannot believe I have a chance to meet you! So much of my work has centered around you for so long… it is just incredible that you are here," the little woman gushed. Estë approached them from across the room, she gave the confused Nárwyn an encouraging smile. "Just look at her Námo! Isn't she lovely? I knew she would be! So fair… so fierce, you can see it in her eyes! Námo did you look at her eyes?"

"Yes Vairë I looked at her eyes," the large man said with an exasperated sigh. Nárwyn was more confused than ever and a little fearful of the attention. She gave Estë a panicked stare, hoping she would intervene.

"Nárwyn, this is Vairë, wife of Námo… you maybe be more familiar with his other name, Mandos," she nodded at the tall man who resembled Irmo. The realization of who these guests were hit Nárwyn hard. She felt her mouth go dry and her hands start to tremble.

"Mandos and the Weaver…" she breathed. She took a step back and bowed her head suddenly feeling very out of place and very unworthy.

"Oh there will be none of that," said Vairë. "You do not need to fear us, especially me." She grabbed Nárwyn's hand and pulled her over to the divan by the fireplace, urging her to sit. Nárwyn sat down next to the Vala that has woven her fate and that of her mothers. She did not know what to think of the strange woman who seemed so happy to see her. It was an awkward situation, Nárwyn had so many questions but a part of her still clung to the resentment that she really has no control over her life or future. Nárwyn felt that Vairë was waiting for her to say something to her, the way she just sat there smiling at her was unnerving. Nárwyn did not have any idea what to say, her thoughts were a jumble. One thing did keep echoing in her mind…

"Why?" she blurted. Vairë just stared at her for a moment, her smile started to slip and was replaced by confusion.

"Why what dear?" she asked. Obviously this was not how the Valar was expecting this to unfold…

"Why me? Why is all of this happening to me? What did I do to displease Eru so?" she asked, more questions were running through her mind but these were the ones that bothered her the most. Vairë just sat there her mouth hanging open in shock. The room was silent until a rich laugh echoed throughout the cottage. All eyes turned to Námo who was leaning against the wall next to the side door, the normally stern faced Valar held an expression full of mirth.

"This is not funny husband… why does she not understand the honor bestowed upon her?" Vairë said as she glared at Námo. Irmo and Estë were stunned at his outburst, they looked at each other in utter disbelief… neither had ever seen Námo smile much less laugh. Námo shook his head and pushed himself off the wall.

"I tried to warn you Vairë… What did you expect her to ask? The girl is alive, unlike those in the Hall who have accepted their fate. She is Raelith's daughter, to think she would be pleased with all this meddling on Eru's part was foolish." Nárwyn's head snapped up at the mention of her mother's name.

"My mother? She is in the Hall of Mandos now… is she not?" she asked Námo. The Ruler of the Dead raised his eyebrow at her, "would I be able to see her? Talk to her?" she thought maybe they would let her since she was here in the Gardens. Námo shook his head.

"I am afraid that is not possible… unless of course you wish to die…" he said with a feral grin. Nárwyn shuttered and shook her head earning a smirk from Námo.

"Námo stop it!" chided his wife. "Raelith has asked to return to Middle Earth… she is being prepared for that."

"To return? How?" asked Nárwyn. Why would her mother wish to return and how would she return?

"To be born again of course!" said Vairë, the Valar acted like this was common knowledge.

"Nárwyn, some people wish to return and experience life again… to be born a babe and grow up, because of this… they retain no knowledge of their life before. Not many choose this because they wish to hold on to their memories… that is why they stay in the Halls," explained Irmo. He could see Nárwyn dim just a bit more and he started to grow concerned.

"So the woman that was my mother would be lost? Her memories of my father… gone?" she said in a small voice.

"I am afraid so," said Irmo, he gave Estë a worried glance. Nárwyn sat there quietly for a few minutes, she sighed and looked at the Valar.

"I had hoped to meet her, but I understand why she did it… maybe this way she can have a happier life. My brothers have told me there was always an air of sadness around her… maybe now she can be happy," Nárwyn offered up a sad smile. "Maybe now my father can move on as well." The Valar were pleased she could selflessly see the reasoning behind her mother's choice. She looked at Vairë and shook her head. "I am sorry, I meant no disrespect with my questions earlier… I just do not understand why I have gain so much importance. I feel as if I have no control over my destiny."

"None of us have full control over our destinies… not even the Valar. The only being that does is Eru," said Námo.

"I can guide the threads in the patterns that Eru wants to see but the ultimate decision on how it is woven is made by you," said Vairë. "Through the choices you make."

"But Lháewnis said my fate was decided when my mother ran away from Eorl…" said Nárwyn. Vairë waved her off.

"A misinterpretation of how the threads of fate work," she said in a huff, obviously not pleased with Lháewnis explanation. "The pattern Eru wanted back then was that your mother's house be joined with Eorl's house. The rest of the threads and pattern took shape based off Raelith's decisions but the original pattern never changed. You could have chosen any male heir of Eorl's over the past four hundred and fifty years to join with but you did not. You could have chosen Éomer's cousin Théodred and threads would have been woven causing the circumstances to be right for a bond to occur." Nárwyn looked horrified over the thought of choosing anyone but Éomer, especially Théodred who she saw sneaking women into their camps. Vairë smiled at her and patted her hand. "It was your choice to choose him, the tapestries I weave cannot make you take an interest in someone… you have seen both men in battle but something about Éomer drew your attention to him. Much is the same for him, he could have easily married but he did not… the opportunities were there but they were not chosen. Although I am very pleased you chose Éomer… I always felt he was the better match… a beautiful man really. Do you understand now?" Vairë asked.

"I do, it makes more sense than how Lháewnis explained it. But… why bond us and make it incomplete at that?" Nárwyn asked, she was starting to feel more at ease in the Valar's presence. Even though these beings had immense power… they chose not to appear that way.

"That we cannot tell you, Eru does things that will only make sense in the future. It is easier to just accept that and move on," said Námo. "Eru does not share the reasons with us, we are given tasks to do with no explanation."

"Nárwyn, both Námo and Vairë receive direct information from Eru… they are the only Valar to do so. The rest of us take direction from them when it is needed," said Estë as she laid a comforting hand on Nárwyn shoulder.

"Does Eru dictate everyone's patterns?" she asked Vairë.

"No dear, most are swept up in the larger patterns, very few receive their own pattern," she said. "I do not know why Eru asked for a special pattern to be woven for you… but know this Nárwyn, it truly is a gift to have Eru's attention… that means great things can happen," she said with a smile. "Remember how the pattern is woven is up to you and the choices you make."

"So I am my own bane or savior…" she said wistfully.

"But that means it is your choice…" said Irmo. He noticed even with the knowledge she controls more of her destiny than she thought, she still did not seem happy. "Nárwyn… Estë and I have decided it is time for you to back to your body in Rohan… in three days I will open a portal for you," Irmo said sadly. Estë joined her husband and took his hand offering him her support. Nárwyn was shocked, she just stared at them for a moment… she thought her stay would be months longer. She stood and threw her arms around Estë, giving her a tight hug before turning to Irmo and doing the same.

"Thank you," she said as tears of happiness started to slide down her cheeks. "I am so grateful for everything you have done for me," she said as she wiped her tears away. "Do you really think I am ready?" Irmo nodded.

"After what you showed me today, I am confident you will be fine," he said, he smiled but it did not quite reach his eyes. Estë noticed her husband's sadness and wrapped her arm around his waist. The next few days were going to be difficult for them… this pain of loss was new to them and not very welcome.

"I will weave this when we return to the Halls," said Vairë. "Another part of the pattern is complete," she said, excited to witness what she would need to weave.

"Does this mean I can have an evening of peace and not have to listen to you go on about the girl's pattern?" asked Námo with a smirk. Vairë rolled her eyes at him and smiled at Nárwyn.

"I am glad I was able to meet you, I am sure you will keep me busy once you return to Rohan. You will create many new threads with your bonded! I cannot wait to weave them," Vairë said smiling. Nárwyn gave her a confused look.

"Wait… threads?" she asked but Estë interrupted.

"Come let us eat… we do not wish for it to get cold," said Estë as she ushered the guests into the dining area. "I only have so many meals to cook for Nárwyn before she back in Rohan and has to fend for herself." Nárwyn followed behind the Valar, she could not stop smiling… in three days she would be together with her bonded again. The thoughts of home distracted her enough that she forgot to ask Vairë about the new threads.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-


End file.
